


grant thine soul repose (the gods won't hear you scream)

by vanitaslaughing



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Role Reversal, Deviates From Canon, Emotional Manipulation, Gen, Insanity, Lies, Manipulation, Villains to Worse Villains, or rather accursed somnus doesnt do canon as accursed ardyn did
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-03-28
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-12-25 22:38:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 27,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18270599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vanitaslaughing/pseuds/vanitaslaughing
Summary: The gods make a choice. The Oracle forwards that choice to the one going ignored.He has no intention of letting the Bladekeeper crown his brother Monster King. Those were two roles that did not go together and yet again he finds himself with nothing; and rather than stealing the role of king he desired, the ignored younger brother instead shoots for the role of monster.Every fairy tale needs a villain; and Somnus Lucis Caelum truly wants to bring these people to kneel before him. Whatever the cost. Ardyn, bringing darkness to the lands of Eos?Ha!There's a better fit for that standing right in Ardyn's shadow, and they all have no idea. They'll see. They'll all see. They cannot ignore a harbinger of darkness.





	1. choice of the divine (you won't be able to ignore a harbinger)

**Author's Note:**

> this is split into four parts; the past/episode ardyn content/main game content/chapter 14
> 
> EDIT: yeah its five parts. im smart.  
> its the past/episode ardyn content/up to kingsglaive/main game content/chapter 13&14

He waited with bated breath until she left. There was something heavy about her steps even though she very likely wholeheartedly believed that he would not be using this information to his advantage. The two of them were hilariously naive when it came to predicting other people. They believed in the good of all of them, believed that each and every single soul was worth saving. They had not seen the extent of what people could do, had not done it with their own two hands.

But still, Somnus remained there with his arms crossed, a chill creeping up his spine eventually as the night carried on.

Only when he was certain that each and every soul was dead asleep did he finally uncross his arms. The flower patch she tended to gently swayed in a nightly breeze, but Somnus was not here to marvel at flowers or think about the fact that even though all evidence painted his brother unfit to rule he had been cast aside once again. Cast aside even for the role of a destroyer—both roles that Ardyn was woefully unequipped for, what with his boundless love for all that breathed making harsh choices as a ruler impossible and that same love absolutely hindering him in the destruction part.

Once upon a time he had been the first to sleep and the last one to rise. He had nodded off during the day, blearily blinking at those few people that talked to him usually to ask him where his brother was. Eventually he had tried to be more approachable so people would not just use him as a stepping stone of some kind to get to his brother, but as the years went by just about the only person that he knew acted without being under an oath to respect him was his own bodyguard. It had hardened the sleepy child who went ignored into a scowling man who hurried through the halls of his childhood home as if he were planning a murder.

He might as well have been, all things considered.

Even as he opened the doors to that accursed would-be throne room, nothing stirred except for the breeze outside making the fields in the area rustle softly. Whatever creatures of the night were on the prowl, on this evening they were as silent as the rest of the world was.

For a moment he considered turning around. He could still win the throne he had been denied if he played his cards right and used his knowledge of his brother and his sister-in-law’s trusting nature as the joker in his deck. He could feign acceptance in front of her, wait until his elusive brother returned home to what was his, and then turn the room against them. The element of surprise, and then using Ardyn’s tendency to challenge whoever was accusing him of things rather than ignoring them to start a fight. He could… kill him.

Somnus stopped dead halfway up the stairs leading to where the Crystal slumbered and another cold shudder ran down his spine. All the blood he had spilled without thinking twice about it, and now the thought of one or two more bodies on the pyre made him queasy. Somehow, his own brother and his accursed soft heart were things that he was not able to pierce.

He shook his head and all but sprinted up the remaining steps; stopped dead in front of the throne.

Reaching out was easier than all those times he grabbed Ardyn’s sleeve when they had been children and he had needed some sort of attention for once while awake. But unlike all those times he clung to his brother’s arms the Crystal was cold and dead and felt unnatural to him. Like something that ought not exist, while his brother was very much a thing that existed. A person whose existence he cherished. A person whose existence he loathed.

Somnus Lucis Caelum grit his teeth as he put the other hand on the Crystal.

“Two conflicting roles you push onto your choice, O Bladekeeper. A saint to lead the sinners; yet in the same breath demand they decry him demon. Rather than choosing one king and one monster, the Monster King is to sit this very throne? One would think that such contradictions were what once upon a time drove the people against the very heavens in the first place.”

No answer, but he had predicted as much. After all, he was not Aera. The voices of the gods were incomprehensible to him even if they did consider speaking to mere mortals rather than their chosen Oracles for one split moment.

“The inevitability of fate you would pound into the hearts of mortal men with a contradiction—a creature of dark cannot rule the light. A sinner cannot sit the throne. Should not sit the throne. That is what mankind ought to have learnt from its past mistakes—yet you would make us tread the same path again. Nay, I say. Nay. But I come here not to tell you that I refuse to play your usurper.”

He dragged his hands down the Crystal, curled them into fists when he reached the base of it. For a moment he thought he caught a sparkle in the dark, but he closed his eyes instead.

“I come with… an offer. You seek to make an ardent being a harbinger of darkness—one too soft to kill unless tormented beyond their breaking point your herald of the end drenched in blood. O Bladekeeper. Long has my family served you body and soul, in sickness and in health, till death did us part.”

Somnus snapped his eyes open and crossed both hands on his chest, kneeled down in front of the throne and the Crystal.

All things considered, his heart should have been beating faster. He should have been terrified. Should have turned tail and fled and orchestrated a way to take the throne that Ardyn was unfit to take. Should have been as terrified as Aera had looked when she told him that the gods had made their choice and even with her knowledge there was no avoiding the inevitable downfall of Ardyn, even as she grabbed his hands and _begged_ him to help his brother.

He was calm. Eerily so.

“Hear me! I, Somnus Lucis Caelum, offer to take the role you would place upon my brother’s shoulders. I will play your usurper, if you let me stay in the shade that destiny has placed me in!”

Some few who did not ignore his existence outside of the fealty they swore to his family called him the Infernian’s Blade, nestled close to the beating heart of the Bladekeeper’s Choice. A creature that writhed in the dark making choices that were seen as abhorrent despite the fact that there was only one way to stem a flood. He was right in the same way that he was wrong; but every delightful saint had to have someone lurking about in the dark plotting their fall. Somnus could do without his brother’s blood on his hands—but if the kingdom needed it… perhaps he could spill it.

For a long, terrifying moment the world stood still as he remained unmoving before the Crystal. It glimmered in the dark, the breeze outside had come to a standstill, and Somnus could swear that his own heart had stopped as he waited for an answer with bated breath. The eeriness of this situation hammered away in his chest rather than his own heart; the shift in nature around him and the silence of the land and the very god he had made his offer to.

Somnus nearly wanted to get back up. Wanted to drop his hands and demand an answer. Wanted to pound his hands on the Crystal and demand for once in his damned life that he got the attention for something he said that it rightfully deserved.

Just for a moment.

A heartbeat.

Agony split his head, and with a strangled cry he moved his hands to clutch his throbbing head instead. The dark had been familiar before, but something about it shifted. It was an inky curtain that blocked out even the glimmer of the Crystal in front of him, a curtain that drowned the faint shapes of the world around him. Blotchy spots of utter darkness danced in his vision as the pain became nigh unbearable.

“W… why,” he choked out. “I just… want to know why! You choose Ardyn to heal! You choose Ardyn to sit the throne! You choose Ardyn to blanket all in despair after you get him drunk on how much of a perfect being he is! Ardyn, Ardyn, _Ardyn!_ Ardyn does not know despair!”

“ _But dost thou?”_

Somnus dropped his hands. The headache subsided as suddenly as it began, but a strange tingling sensation of needles piercing his skin remained.

Perhaps it was shame, he figured as he found himself unable to look back up. All he managed was a strangled, raspy laugh.

“More than Ardyn at the very least. His conscience would prove a nigh insurmountable obstacle in your plans. And even if I offered to break this wall down, there is no telling whether I would succeed or not. Kill his beloved. Tear his country apart. Torment him time and time again for all bloody eternity, it would not work. In the end, he would direct his hatred towards you rather than the world his destiny would like him to drown in blood and darkness. That, or towards a much more tangible target. Whomsoever you chose to inflict this suffering upon him—me, his beloved. But the people he would know are not to blame, because his calling was to save their lives.”

He closed his eyes again, ignoring the fact that he could not see at all.

“I offer you myself as that harbinger you seek. Without strings attached. I will spread that darkness you need one to spread.”

“ _For the good of the people that love thee and thine brother, out of the goodness of thine heart, out of love for thine brother?”_

A dry laugh that sounded hollow. It shook his entire body. “No.” He raised his head at long last and opened his eyes again, dully aware of the fact that his sight had returned to him—but it swam. Not in tears. It merely refused to focus, making the dark of the throne room and the faint glimmer of the Crystal nothing more than a smear in front of him. “I wanted them to look up to me. When they did not, I wanted to at least stand beside my brother to help him. He would not let me. I want them to tremble before me. I want them to realise that for every saviour there is a destroyer, and if the destroyer not yet has reared their head then the people will inevitably create one. I want them to fear me.” He slammed a hand into the floor. “I merely asked for recognition and got naught in return—and now you would have me steal what is not mine? Then at least let me steal a fate that gives me the power I need to bring them all to kneel before me! I could not care less about the throne, could not care less about a kingdom with people who not once acknowledged me with anything but fear even for my best, well-intentioned feats! So let me be the destroyer you seek, Bladekeeper!”

Again, no answer. His sight focused again, his heart finally picked up the face and beat irregularly and way too fast in his chest.

Aera had been reduced to tears after her first resolve shattered. He did not care for that woman, that puppet of the gods that had known all along what would come to pass and that had only just gotten the confirmation that the time was now. Somnus dully realised that he, too, was crying. Not out of grief. Not out of fear.

He started laughing after a minute of silence with tears of sheer utter fury dripping down his chin as he raised his head. He staggered when he got back on his feet, put a hand against the throne that he had so desired until he watched Aera walk down the hallway to retreat to her quarters while leaving him with his thoughts. Cast aside and left to rot in the dark, and now they offered him a spotlight.

Too bad their supposed Founder King who would cast out a being of darkness was dead on arrival. Shrivelled up in the shade despite being just as much of a being that needed light on occasion. Left to rot.

But once again, like every other time in his life, Somnus Lucis Caelum went ignored. Neither the gods nor his people listened.

And the sole person who had listened until Somnus directed his anger at him had been his brother, the very subject of their loving revelry.

He did not think twice about the fact that his sword answered him. Did not think twice about raising it against the Crystal that rejected him but wanted him to steal the acceptance from his brother.

For another moment the earth stood still as the blade descended.

When it connected with the blessed hunk of rock he loathed, time returned. Somnus found himself blasted backwards, down the stairs that led up to this place. He heard some rather disconcerting cracks during his fall and lay still at the base of the stairs. On his stomach, face turned into the direction that he knew that unforgiving god of war rested in his damned trinket of boundless power. His sight was swimming again, but he was dully aware of the blood that pooled underneath his head. Perhaps he had broken his nose. Snapped some ribs, had them pierce his damned lungs. It would explain the weak, wet cough that escaped him.

“So that… is your answer….”

He barely even registered the feeling of something heavy and metal suddenly pressed to the back of his neck. A faint glimmer; was the Draconian showing his damned face for once? He wanted to laugh—hundreds of years the people had waited for that. Hundreds of years they had waited for another Oracle to hear the voice of the gods to tell them who would lead them. And now here he was, blade pressed against the supposed Usurper King who would cloak himself in stolen feats for the rest of his life. How… utterly….

“Ridiculous….”

Ardyn would never succeed as destroyer king. He was one who nurtured rather than starved. Ardyn would rather see that all those who were thirsty went with water; Somnus was the one who would burn those at stake that poisoned the water supply in the first place. Why, why did they want him to keep living in that shadow by stealing Ardyn’s achievements for himself?

“ _Few could claim to have had the desire to wreak havoc for the sake of wreaking havoc. Misguided fool… but perhaps the misguided fool necessary for this.”_

Somnus really, truly wished he could have felt the agony of having a sword shoved through his back. But he felt nothing as his body twitched under the weight of the Draconian having stomped an armoured foot onto him right behind where the blade pierced him. Only thin wail that was more gargle than anything else escaped him as he tried reaching for the Crystal one last time; only now he realised that the gods had set them all up for a fool’s errant. The beloved king. The jealous brother. And the cold, uncaring Oracle who could have told the two of them what awaited them all along.

That was his last thought. Aera and her lies.

The inky curtains that blocked out the light fell the same moment the weight lifted off him and a high-pitched shriek pierced the dull cloud that had started to swallow him up. Then silence.

* * *

His world was in a misty haze. The haze just so happened to be streaked red and black and occasionally completely gave way to naught but dark. He had never imagined death would leave him feeling _hunger_ of all things; a hunger that was so desperate that he could settle for literal raw flesh he tore out of something or hells, _someone_ , with his bare hands.

Occasionally there _were_ hands. Hands that brushed him, hands that prodded into the raw wound that had once been his back. Surprisingly gentle hands, but hands he hated either way. He just wanted to either see or not, wanted to tear this veil in half.

Did time even pass? He had no idea. It was all a haze, a dull, dull haze.

“Somnus.”

When he opened his eyes this time, he saw. He _felt._ Something was definitely wrapped around his arms, something was definitely keeping him in one place.

He opened his mouth. No sound escaped him except for a pathetic wheeze that fizzled out after a mere second. It took him a moment to focus and gather his bearings, but once he focused he saw a familiar and infuriating face in his field of vision.

Of all people.

Of all people… wait.

“What on earth did you _do?”_

He exhaled slowly. His voice was broken and faint, barely above a hoarse whisper. “I owe you no answer to that, brother.” He didn’t even want to know why Ardyn was here in the afterlife or whatever this… place was. It certainly looked like familiar, judging from the delicate pattern on the way too pristine ceiling. He was still where be belonged, but it _smelled_ like an abandoned shack in the middle of the countryside; the stench of sickness hanging heavy in the air.

All his brother did was place a hand on his cheek, and Somnus squirmed weakly. Well, whatever was holding him in place certainly made it hard to move. He hoped that snarl got his point across even if he couldn’t get away from Ardyn and his smothering look of pity.

“Unfortunately I do deserve an answer, Somnus. The very same morning that I packed my things to return home to Aera and you two pieces of news reached me. First, the gods had made their choice.”

Somnus let out a dry wheeze that barely qualified for a laugh. “And ‘twas you.”

“It indeed was. But not even a bell after that the head of your army finds me, completely out of breath and with bloodshot panicked eyes. Gasping for breath, he tells me that Aera had found you on the morrow at the bottom of the stairs before the Crystal, collapsed and in a pool of your own blood. Naught short of a miracle was needed to stem that flow of blood long enough to have you slip into unconsciousness, a miracle that happened, somehow.”

Ardyn was _frowning._ It was one of the more infuriating expressions he could wear, that pitying frown that he usually kept for the fools that were beyond saving. Somnus shifted with a snarl, still unable to get his hands freed. Good grief. One would think that they had tied him to the ground like people normally did with those affected by the plague.

“Somnus. If you cannot tell me what you did, perhaps start with what you remember. The rumour that someone attempted to assassinate you had taken flight in the last week.”

He blinked blearily at his brother. “Last… week?”

“Beside the point. Please,” Ardyn folded his hands. “Just answer me. Was there an assassin?”

He slowly shook his head. There was a dull throbbing pain that wrecked his skull right now. He tried to think about what had happened, but his mind completely blanked. Aera had found him in the throne room? He knew that Ardyn had been chosen to lead their people, but why on earth would he have been in the throne room? But the more he thought about it, the more his heart sped up. An arrhythmic drumbeat that was both excited and mortified at the same time.

He had done something in there, and it had wound up with him… nearly bleeding to death before the stairs that led… up… to the… _Crystal._

He barely registered that Ardyn moved backwards all of a sudden. Somnus struggled against his constraints as he remembered the events that had led to him getting to this point—and realised to late that the strange hissing noise came from _him,_ not his brother. He had thought about the fact that Ardyn was supposed to turn into a monster driven by hunger as he had leaned against that pillar in the hallway for hours, and even through the heavy cloak of seething jealousy that just sounded wrong. Truly, a monster would be easier to paint as usurper rather than chosen; and even if Ardyn refused to show his true face then at least the fact that he would have objected to Somnus’ claims would have made the people wonder.

He continued to struggle in vain for a few more moments, but when he closed his eyes to catch his breath, suddenly he felt a heavy weight on his chest. A heavy, heavy weight—and icy cold hands on his face.

What a strange reversal of the way the silly game of tag they used to play what felt like centuries ago. Rather than Somnus warping and using the impact to topple his brother and then using his weight to keep Ardyn down, it now was Ardyn sitting on Somnus; both his hands on his younger brother’s cheeks. He had to admit, he marvelled at how terrified the other man looked. It was rare to break through Ardyn’s veil of superiority and infuriating calm even when he was at his worst.

“What did you _do_ , Somnus Lucis Caelum?”

He stopped. Put on his best collected and tired face. “Nothing. I do not know what happened, who attacked me.” Another lie for the road; but this time a necessary one. Somnus tugged on the restraints once more. “Pray tell, why am I bound like a rat with the plague?”

Before Ardyn could say anything else, there was a knock on the door. His brother got up and cleared his throat, which the person behind the door clearly took as an incentive to come on in.

Though it was only Aera. White-hot fury seethed through Somnus as he watched her come closer—that woman who could hear the gods, who likely knew all along what was going on. And now she was standing here, that faux expression of relief on her oh-so-fair face.

“We needed to stop you from thrashing about while we tried to save your life,” she said.

Somnus harrumphed. “And failed to unbind me.”

Her excuse was that him moving about too much would have been counterproductive and might have opened the wound again. Truth be told, looking at her made a furious buzz rise in his ears and he could not care _less_ about any of the drivel about gods and grace and how much they had to thank them for Somnus not dying. He hoped his furious expression got the point across that he was definitely not pleased with this.

But now that she and Ardyn were talking about how to proceed, Somnus finally had a moment to think.

He hadn’t died. That wound had been _absolutely_ fatal; he had felt himself fading entirely. Truth be told, he didn’t feel like he was injured at all, and Ardyn definitely threw a couple of cautious glances into his direction whenever Aera was too busy talking to notice it. Usually when she mentioned that it had been a close call and that the assassin had to be caught.

Thank goodness they eventually unbound him, and Somnus sat up. Anyone else recovering from a weapon to the back and blood loss would have been dizzy from that alone, but he had never felt so… _alive._ Not even painstakingly alive, and he certainly did not appreciate his existence any more—especially since Aera was talking about how the people agreed that the assassin could not be left to roam, lest they came back. What went unsaid was that the people really only worried about that supposed murderer-in-waiting was going to go after their precious chosen healer king. Not surprising, had he made a name for himself as butcher recently. But still they did not fear him.

Considering the last thing the Bladekeeper had said, they were all in for a rude awakening. A very, _very_ rude awakening.

He merely needed to bide his time and find the right moment to strike.

* * *

Ardyn kept staring at him. The more time passed, the more his eyes narrowed as he stared at his brother. Somnus already had had an unusual fondness of creeping about in the shade, but Ardyn commented once that he had gotten atypically fond of it lately.

Somnus shrugged it off; claimed that he was merely worried about becoming a target again. After all, a man of his height was much harder to see in the dark.

The truth was, the sun burnt. It made his skin itch and dried his eyes to a frankly ridiculous level, but there was never anything that happened over than a faint cloud rising from his skin. Quite a lot of things started making sense as he dwelt on that leaning against a pillar with his arms crossed and his eyes closed yet again. It was easy to tell who carried the plague because of their aversion to sunlight; and if Ardyn had been chosen for this path all along then perhaps he had already started suffering side-effects long before the choice was made known. It would certainly explain the clothes in a country as warm as this—with the hood his brother was completely shielded from the sun.

The crowning ceremony had come and gone and all of a sudden Somnus had ceased existing. The first thing the people had called for was for the king to clap his brother’s hands in irons and cast him into the sea for murder, but Ardyn did no such thing. Somnus effectively once again turned into a non-entity in these halls—except this time there would be no tugging on his brother’s sleeves or effectively demanding General Gilgamesh’s attention for himself.

With Ardyn as king, the only person that Somnus ever really talked to on a personal level was suddenly gone. Oh, he hated them. He hated each and every single one of them.

And thus, after a month, he found himself kneeling in front of his brother.

“Are you… sure? You’re still recovering—“

Damn that man and damn his useless compassion. “I will be fine, _Your Majesty.”_

All this talk of planning a royal wedding was driving him up every damned wall in this damned place while the damned people all smiled as if the gods themselves were going to conduct that. Ardyn and Aera’s wedding was long overdue, and with Ardyn currently shackled to this place there was no way around it. Not that the two minded.

Somnus on the other hand was liable to tear every single person singing about that wonderful upcoming wedding to shreds and then behead the bride. Aera’s very existence was infuriating.

Since he was planning on biding his time, Somnus chose to escape his captors.

At least Ardyn seemed to understand his reasoning. It was _Aera_ who was absolutely not happy with her brother-in-law vanishing so shortly before the wedding.

But Somnus went, and took note of the collective sigh of relief from every servant and every person who came here asking for Ardyn’s succour. They had no idea. No idea that this blissful repose was not going to last.

He made sure that no one could track him across the country. Made sure he kept his face hidden and his own sword unused; no one would be able to figure out that he was Somnus Lucis Caelum as long as those two most distinguishable features remained out of sight.

Somnus quickly learned that there was more to the plague than he thought. Burning it had been the right idea in the first place; how someone who knew so much about medicine like Ardyn failed to see this was completely beyond him—as he watched another village burn, as he hunted down those that fled their homes and grabbed them, tossed them to the ground and bestowed the plague upon the uninfected.

Ardyn could heal.

Somnus could make his job harder.

A year after he set out, people still had not made the connection. A year after he set out news of the king moving across the country with his beloved wife to aid those in need after the recent surge of plague infections.

He stopped his travels in a nondescript village by the shore. It was just another village, with bright white stone houses and wide fields of wheat and the like surrounding it. Just another village. But it was so far from his home that there was no way that Ardyn would catch up to him at any point soon; and Somnus needed a while to stew on how to proceed. He was going to tear the walls of his brother’s palace down, was going to stomp out the kindled flames of hope for the kingdom Ardyn and Aera had dubbed Lucis. He merely needed time to find a way to do it.

The people here certainly did not recognise him as Somnus Lucis Caelum, even when they asked his name and he answered in earnest for once. This village was so far removed from everything it should not have been as surprising as it wound up being, but nevertheless, something about being amongst people again was more than merely passing strange. He hated people. By the gods he hated, he loathed the people who wandered the earth as well.

But for three years, Somnus found his restless urge to be recognised for something sated. He wasn’t good at ploughing fields, of course, but merely the fact that a traveller had settled here and told them of what was happening halfway across the continent made these people listen to him. The exact image that was forever burnt into his mind as he leaned against a pillar; Ardyn standing before a group of people who all listened to what he had to say—and finally he got that same feeling. Years later. Way too many years later.

He could always wait longer; there was no time limit on what he had to do. Darkness could always come and fall, but for the time being Somnus found himself _enjoying_ the boring little village by the sea. He turned out to be somewhat adept at fishing, and his instructor’s daughter only laughed beside him when some creature of the seas pulled him into the water and snapped his rod. A lot of understanding came to him in those three years, as to why Ardyn and Aera were considered such a perfect match. They balanced each other out, even if there was a distinct lack of being able to put a foot down and saying no. How and why the people were so _easily_ scared into submission.

Not that he did the scaring.

But driving off these bandits just because he could and standing in front of the burning house with blood on his face while watching the flames, he realised that each and every single person was as much of a monster as the people decried those that the plague twisted. The gods were the judge; the people the jury—what Eos truly needed was an executioner.

The fisherman’s daughter thanked him, time and time again. She was the only survivor of that attack, and the house he’d spent the last two years in burnt to the ground.

They rebuilt it, even as Somnus shied away from the other people.

Something about her was… calming. Even when she pushed his wide sun hat aside to cup his face and place a kiss on his lips.

* * *

The path of the destroyer, Somnus realised when the peace was broken and he held his sword high and his head higher, was something he _enjoyed_ even more than the attention he finally got in this place. The villagers all stood behind Ardyn now, clinging to each other as their homes burnt. Somnus had his back to the flames, a wide grin on his face, and Aera writhing in agony by his feet. That utter look of terror on his brother’s face was priceless as Aera screamed and jerked around, her red blood long having turned into black ooze. The very same one that dripped off Somnus’ chin onto the ground, the same ooze that pooled beneath his feet as once more he found himself skewered on a weapon.

Once again, bandits. Bandits that wanted to terrify the Healer King by ravaging the village he was coming to. Somnus woke to the village aflame and in panic.

And tore them all to shreds. For the first time in four years, his blade was used. It carved a bloody path through the village, taking down friend and foe alike, and every fibre of his body _sang._ It was marvellous, he thought even as one bandit managed to dodge his swipes and shoved his lance through Somnus’ back only to get crushed a second later, how easily a human body _broke._ How easily those idiots let themselves get toppled over and run through and grabbed by their throats as the plague took them.

By the time Ardyn and Aera had arrived, the entire burning village had been a ghost town. Aera made the grave mistake of getting too close to the village to help a bleeding and crying child, and the fact that she had known there would be a king chosen to lead the people to their downfall all along. The voices of the gods never fell upon deaf ears with this accursed woman who smiled and laughed as if there had never been a blade dangling above her beloved husband and her most reviled brother-in-law’s heads.

Running her through had been _so liberating._ After _years_ of her being untouchable and acting as if she was the strongest in the world, she fell just as easily as every other mortal. “Give the Infernian my regards, Aera,” he had whispered into her ears as he yanked his weapon out of her chest and shoved her to the ground.

Ardyn was definitely shaking and struggling for words.

Somnus merely grabbed the tip of the lance that had been shoved through him and without once breaking eye contact, tore it out of his own body with a wheezing laugh. The people behind Ardyn all turned tail and fled, running, _screaming,_ and Somnus only continued laughing.

“How’s that crown _fit you_ , brother? A smooth, unimpeded rule, with happy citizens and nothing bad going on outside the walls you built?”

The terror on Ardyn’s face turned into understanding and something that Somnus could not quite read. “What you did that day before the Crystal—“

“Was taking the role they meant to bestow upon you with your crown! Stealing the crown, stealing the role of destroyer—say, _Ardyn,_ do me a favour.” A cramp went through his entire body and Somnus nearly toppled over as he vomited up black sludge that tasted like blood while Aera fell deathly silent. “Care to tell me why _everyone_ called a child who’d not done a thing a bad omen? You’re the older, infinitely wiser one of us, after all. Share that wisdom with the unknown omen, would you?”

Somnus knew the answer to that. Unfortunate events that he himself had had no control over—he had not even been born when their father died at the claw ends of a grotesque monster, and it wasn’t as if Somnus himself had plunged weapons into his mother while she gave birth. But newly born and already an orphan was enough to consider him a most unfortunate omen. In turn, the intelligent and kind elder brother was considered the only remnant of that family.

Ardyn clearly shuddered but said nothing.

“How’s it _feel_ being so beloved and wanted and skilled and wonderful that the gods choose you for both throne and destruction?”

His brother shook his head. The damned fool hadn’t even summoned his weapon, and his followers had not appeared yet either. “Somnus—“

“They gave you _everything!_ Ardyn Lucis Caelum, skilled warrior, beloved healer, happily in love with a liar who loves him back, wise beyond his years, and even the damned _gods_ adore him so! What a _fairy tale!_ Too bad you all forgot one important part of storytelling while you were all so blissfully happy with your gods-given nonsense!”

“… We forgot a villain.”

Somnus tossed his arms out, ignoring the fact that something cracked awkwardly. Ardyn definitely flinched hearing that. “A villain, indeed! Yet not even _that_ role they would give me until I _demanded_ it. _Everything!_ They gave you _everything!_ And what does that leave me with?”

An inferiority complex.

It left him with the absolutely undying urge to make them all writhe before him, just as stark contrast to how they greeted his brother every time with naught but loving words and loving gestures.

The realisation seemed to settle in on Ardyn’s mind as Aera let out one last scream. Somnus kicked her, watched her uselessly roll away and coming to a complete standstill. “Everything. Yet they told you _nothing._ So much they gave you, yet not a single person in your life ever told the truth. She lied! I lied! The thrice-damned gods lied; with gusto even!”

Perhaps in another life he wouldn’t have tugged on his brothers sleeves so much. Wouldn’t have slept knowing that no one ever sought him out even when he skipped the classes that he was supposed to take. Really, he had only gone because Ardyn asked him to. The sole person that ever reached out to him without an ulterior move.

He really, _really_ hated Ardyn.

But before Somnus could focus on his brother properly, something shook his body.

It took him a moment to register that he was nailed to the ground, impaled on several lances. The cavalry had arrived, just in the nick of time. He twitched just as the monsters he had rounded up before he burnt them all to a crisp in the past, but unlike these creatures he did not croak in his death throes.

Somnus Lucis Caelum laughed, laughed even though his throat was torn. Laughed as his brother calmly walked over and put a hand on his cheek.

“Your Majesty!” Those fools had not heard the conversation, if they were to be believed. They had merely seen a monster wearing the skin of… Lord Somnus. _Now_ they dared call him Lord.

There was that pitying look in Ardyn’s eyes again, even if the man was pale and looked quite unwell.

“I had assumed it was the grace of the gods that saved me,” he whispered as he leaned in as far as he could. “Now I know better. Oh, Somnus.”

The world vanished into a smudge of burning dark. Somewhere through a thick layer of fog, he heard the villagers return, heard them talk about perhaps the sacred island off the shore being a way to make His Majesty Ardyn strong enough even without access to the Crystal that he could at least purge the plague off this man.

Ardyn said nothing for a while, and merely made certain to sap the plague out of his dead wife’s body to keep her from turning into a monster post-mortem. What a picture; the gentle healer they called their king holding that woman who had lied to him all along. Somnus convulsed with a hoarse laugh.

Then Ardyn agreed.

Somnus would not be leaving that island; he knew that much when his consciousness fizzled out at last.

* * *

Good omens, bad omens. He spent a while chewing on these as he struggled against his restraints and _screamed_ for his brother to stop hiding and at least take him out to finish the damned fairy tale. Ardyn was considered a good one, from his birth to his ascension to the throne. Somnus meanwhile had been a bad one.

But those roles could have been so easily reversed. Hells, had he chosen the throne over the power to show them just what he was capable of, perhaps he could have twisted that story himself. Beloved by the Oracle, chosen by the gods, all to seal an evil and help the afflicted. But that throne he once so desired had meant nothing in comparison to the utter _glee_ of running Aera through and seeing his brother struggle with his bearings as they chained his brother up.

Ardyn had only saluted him, hand on his heart and that look of agony on his face as he looked at his brother. “I bid thee farewell and hope the light of dawn grants thine soul repose.”

Prayer.

Of course the last thing Ardyn had to do was mutter one of the many prayer that Aera especially had uttered.

He had yanked his chains with a snarl on his lips. “To hell with your repose!”

And those were the last words they ever exchanged.

No matter how long and hard he raged against his restraints they did not come loose. No matter how many times he called for Ardyn to stop being a coward and come face him, Ardyn never came.

No one ever came.

It could have been years by now and Somnus would be none the wiser. Whenever light fell into this solitary cell, it burnt his skin. The light of sunrise, he always knew, was perhaps the most agonising experience. As the day went on, he dulled to that pain however; torn and tattered clothes that hung off his body in shreds offered little to no protection from the sun.

He stopped struggling at some point and closed his eyes instead.

Sleep had always helped him block out what was truly going on. It was quiet. Just as the hallways in his dreams were; with no person in sight. He only heard the whispers of a monster, fully aware that the monster was him. He so desperately yearned for the people who were talking to reveal themselves so he could tear them apart after demanding they showed him where Ardyn was.

Sometimes he caught glimpses of him and Aera. Hurrying through the hallways with laughter following them; dancing in the gardens in almost blissful ignorance; resting on the roof; praying before the Crystal. But every time Somnus thought he had them this time, Aera made eye contact with him and they were gone. Gone like the wind that howled across the raging seas out here on Angelgard.

Just once he tried throwing his weapon at them; and for a moment it looked as if he had hit his brother. For a moment his blade buried itself in Ardyn’s back, for a split second he heard the strangled cry of a man whose heart had been pierced. A storm rose, tore the very brick foundation away and dismantled the castle.

Aera spoke, but her voice was not her own. _“’Tis not thine destiny to kill thine brother,”_ she said with the low, dangerous voice of something that definitely did not belong in his nightmares. _“Cease this pointless struggle ‘gainst what thine destiny truly is.”_

Somnus slept.

Maybe that was the ironic ending that fairy tale villains usually got. The witch who wished to eat the children burnt in her own furnace. The witch, bereft of her powers, was left in the tower. The witch, the witch, the evil queen.

And thus the Accursed Prince named after sleep slept. For all eternity if he had to.


	2. legacy for the ages (i'll burn it all to cinders)

Somnus woke.

Blearily he blinked his eyes open, fully aware that something was tugging on his sore arms. Muffled voices reached him, and it took him a long moment to realise that there were _people._ There were thrice-damned people in his solitary cell on this forsaken holy island. They were definitely real, and definitely pulling on the chains that bound him. One of them was definitely giving orders, but it was incredibly hard to focus on that man’s face through half-opened eyes that might as well have seen nothing.

Only when he dropped to the ground his focus snapped back fully.

Rather than wait and hear a word these people said, Somnus all but jumped to his feet with a furious hiss and whirled around. Much to his surprise his weapon answered him even after all this time of disuse—what had it been, years?—and three of the people who had messed with the chains went down with strangled cries.

The one he had barely managed to see who had been giving commands had backed away a little and clicked his tongue.

“Is this how you would greet your saviours?”

That name rattled about in Somnus’ skull for a moment. Saviour. Saviour. _Saviour._

That was precisely what they had called Ardyn, and the last drowsiness faded from his mind entirely. “I’ve no need for saviours,” he hissed into the dark, surprised to find himself perfectly able to see.

The man made a sound that vaguely reminded him of people scoffing and rolling their eyes at him. “Fine. Then we are not your saviours but your… _allies,_ I suppose.”

“I’ve no need for allies either.”

The man crossed his arms, and the rest of the people he was with who had not been cut down by Somnus’ attack shuffled awkwardly around them. It wasn’t even a staring contest of any sort; Somnus merely closed his eyes before any such thing could take place.

“Very well, very well. Neither saviours nor allies, then. Pray permit me to introduce ourselves then: your only way off this island.”

Somnus snapped his eyes open again. Island. Right. He had forgotten about that.

“… Fair enough.”

Whatever kind of weaponry these men used, he was aware of them pointing these strange things at him as he dragged himself along the path. When offered a shoulder to lean on, Somnus merely summoned his sword again and raised it to the fool’s throat. In response the other soldiers immediately pressed their weapons to his back.

They stood there like for a while, and he was wildly aware of the fact that there were several other soldiers around. Goodness. One would have thought that these men had broken into a castle the way they were pointing their strange weapons around. One of them also apparently talked with… no one in particular. And pretended that it was a full conversation.

Somnus broke the stalemate by putting his weapon away, but these men still pointed their weapons at him as he slowly continued walking. By the very heavens themselves, he was sore all over. It reminded him of… easier times. No, earlier times. Times when he had managed to topple Ardyn after hours of training, laughing in triumph, with Ardyn chuckling, with Aera sitting under that tree and laughing as well.

Had she known all along? He had been so certain of that. Now he wasn’t. Not that he cared.

He shoved one of the strange metal things out of the way and continued his sluggish march to wherever these people were taking him. They were muttering something to each other but truth be told he did not give a damn about them. The moment they let him off their boat that would be taking him back to the main land he could kill them all and carry on.

Though he did wonder when and where these weapons had popped up first. How much time had even passed?

He did not get to ponder on things for too long. One of the men talking to themselves suddenly sounded frantic, as if his imaginary conversation partner had just keeled over. Somnus stumbled when one of the men poking his weapon into his back suddenly fell over. He dropped to his knees, painfully aware of how unresponsive his limbs were after however much time had passed with him chained up like this. Gods, he felt like that day he decided that Ardyn and his repeated absences lately warranted breaking into his room together with Aera and raid his brother’s lovingly stashed wine bottles.

He heard the heavy thud of people landing from a high jump, and Somnus slowly turned his head to look at the newcomers.

Whoever they were, they were not dressed like the others. After ages of being completely on his own, hearing yet another person talk harshly to someone who wasn’t even there made his head hurt. Who _dressed_ like this. What were they even supposed to wear—it wasn’t proper combat armour. Yet somehow these people carried weapons; daggers, short swords. One even had a crossbow. And some others had the same strange metal things that made no sense as a weapon that the people who had gotten him out of his cell had carried.

“Back to your cell, Adagium,” a woman with a short sword she drew and pointed at him said.

Somnus tilted his head. Gods, that voice was ear-splitting. The strange drawl to it did not help the slightest. “Eh.”

He stared at these people, and some of the younger-looking ones shifted uncomfortably. Only one who looked like he was seasoned enough took a step forward with his strange weapon that Somnus did not recognise. What on _earth_ was that thing even supposed to _be?_

He did not get the chance to ask them. It sounded as if someone had blown up a plague-victim that had turned into one of these floating things that people in the seaside village had called ‘bombs’ right next to his ears. It took his system a few seconds to even _register_ what had just happened, and for a split moment he felt every nerve in his body catch fire. Then an overwhelming numbness; whatever this weapon was it had just pierced his thrice-damned heart.

Unfortunately, following that evening the village had burnt, Somnus rather quickly learned that even his body shut down, eventually he got back up. For a split second everything went dark and deathly silent—and then he was painfully aware of those idiots yanking his arms to get him into an upright position. Their voices were muffled and sounded strange, his body refused to properly react to what he wanted it to do. The entire world was jilted and wrong; and it made him furious.

“Let go,” he snarled when finally, _finally,_ his voice returned to him. They only yanked harder. “Cease.”

They didn’t stop.

“I said cease!”

The world came back into sharp focus, but everything was pulsing around him. He heard the sound of flesh tearing and bones breaking as he thrashed about, hissing and spitting furiously. Another bang rang across the island, but Somnus felt _nothing_. He continued thrashing about, a mad howl on his lips as he tossed the people trying to back him into a corner and tore them into _bloody chunks._ It had been _years,_ his entire body _screeched,_ and it was over after about a minute.

The pulsing stopped as abruptly as it had started, his head _throbbing_ as if someone had shoved a blunt spear through an eye socket and shattered his skull in the process. He would have rather liked a moment to evaluate the situation on hand, but Somnus was not given a moment of reprieve—he caught that blindingly bright arc of right followed by another handful men and women in strange uniforms with familiar and unfamiliar weapons in their hands. The only way to get a moment with his thoughts likely meant dispatching these people as he had dispatched entire villages before those four years of quiet.

He moved to drag a hand down his face, but instead merely covered his eyes. All heavens above and all hells below—his head _hurt._

“I suppose negotiations are out of the question?”

He got no answer and only heard the rattle of blades and metal clicking. Somnus peeked through his fingers and sluggishly dodged an incoming warp; if nothing else then the countless hours of training with Gilgamesh and Ardyn had not entirely gone to waste by now.

“Fine. Your funeral.”

Maybe it had always been the fact that he was shorter than quite literally any other person in his direct personal space, but for some reason or another Somnus had rather quickly learned how to use his family’s gift of warping to his advantage. It compensated for his lack of height when taking on opponents like Ardyn and Gilgamesh, it allowed him to rapidly gain the advantage over plague-turned creatures of the night.

But something about his usual way of fighting felt off now. Would have felt off if he hadn’t been thrilled to be back in action even when the dull pain of not being used to move about as rapidly as he was right now settled back in. By the time he backed the last of these uniformed morons into a corner every cell in his body was complaining about the strain, every nick and every scratch on his body had regenerated as the fight went on, and still Somnus found himself flashing that man who had dropped his sword a grin.

Anyone else would have let one survivor run. Somnus was not anyone else; and instead grabbed the man by the throat. Hells, he even lifted that fool off his feet.

If nothing else, that uniformed man at least continued struggling. Whoever had trained him, there was some fight left in him even when loss was imminent. Not something that many soldiers sent on a fools errant had.

“I would send you with a message for my darling sister-in-law,” Somnus huffed and tossed the man into the rock behind them, “but I’ve got a better idea.”

Rather than let the man gather his bearings, Somnus slammed both hands against his chest. The gurgling scream that the man let out as miasma spread over him wasn’t exactly the prettiest sound in the world, but it was a reminder to Somnus that he had gotten _precisely_ what the gods would have given Ardyn. He could _picture_ his brother gagging in disgust while sobbing or even collapsing after doing this to a person.

Somnus only let the jerking corpse drop to the ground and turned around when he heard clapping.

There was that man again who had offered himself as saviour, ally and then the only way off again. Dark splotches in his vision made it rather hard to see what exactly was going on, and even what the man was saying was starting to get replaced with intense static.

 _Ah,_ Somnus thought when his legs gave in, _I overdid it._  

* * *

 

The light of the setting sun always turned the fields around the palace into what looked like solid gold. The fields of the gods, some travellers would call them when they first saw it, but for him it had long since become just another thing that made his home more interesting than most other places.

Of course, that was assuming Ardyn and Aera hadn’t taken control of the place to be disgustingly sweet together. He considered calling for them as they sat under that tree together.

The moment he tried to raise his voice, however, a shadow fell over him. For a moment he saw the glint of steel, heard the booming voice of the Bladekeeper ring in his ears. _“Misguided fool… but perhaps the misguided fool necessary for this.”_

And Aera screamed. Ardyn screamed. A hundred voices rose just as a hundred swords did, and Somnus watched the fields burn down.

Served them right.

Served him right as one of the myriad blades plummeted from the skies and directly—

He opened his eyes.

He had fallen asleep while deliriously attempting to figure out the new calendar, it seemed. However much time had passed since that time that man called Verstael had gotten him off that island, Somnus had spent most of the time that there weren’t any people poking around him and his unusual set of abilities trying to figure out exactly what was going on in the world. The names of the countries were confusing and strange—Niflheim, Accordo, Tenebrae? The names of the ruling families were plain infuriating when they did not have any meaning to him—House Aldercapt meant nothing to him, yet somehow the Lucis Caelum line had survived Aera’s death, and her half brother barely out of the nursery had continued the Fleuret line? The calendar made no sense whatsoever—what date were they even counting from, why on earth had they agreed on a shared one? And that was not even _brushing_ the can of worms that was Verstael’s beloved _technology._

At the very least Somnus had learned that the strange weapons these people on Angelgard had used were called guns, and were perhaps the most dangerous thing around these days. It was almost impressive how much sheer destructive force these things carried. Even the most harmless person could become a danger with one of these, and some people were so exceptionally skilled that they were able to hit far away targets with only a little effort. It definitely was more elegant than a crossbow, though he had to admit he had no love for these little metal things. They were _too loud._

It had made several of the other scientists back away in horror when he said that he would prefer a quiet and less powerful weapon if it meant he got to hear what was going on in battle. Verstael had only nodded in understanding, then waved his hand around and said that this was likely linked to the fact that the last time Somnus had walked free there had been no machinery.

He groaned slightly and pushed himself up from the chair he had passed out in. No matter how much or how little he slept, Somnus once again found his given name a tad too accurate. There was this veil of tiredness that kept him in its grip, and after a while he had realised what exactly that was.

Human bodies, as Verstael had claimed, still needed a certain amount of sunlight to function properly.

Somnus on the other hand could not stand in direct sunlight. The tiredness was linked to a distinct lack of… of… whatever it was that this man called it. He had no mind for the mad ramblings of a man who knew a little too much about human bodies to still be entirely comfortable to stay around.

Though there was no one summoning him, Somnus dragged himself through the door and down the hallway. The sun was reflecting off the snow-covered peaks outside, and after staring at them for a minute the strange sting of the sun made him uncomfortable enough to back away. Unfortunately for him, apparently him leaving his room had not gone unnoticed—he felt that hand on his back and nearly jumped out of his skin.

Verstael Besithia, one of Niflheim’s brightest minds if the other people here were to be believed, was kind of an idiot despite clearly having a clever head on his shoulders. One scientist had already quite literally lost their head for startling their prized ‘Adagium’, which had terrified the rest of the scientists so much that each and every single one refused to come near the self-proclaimed monster again. Which was fine by Somnus. But Verstael _insisted_ on being always up too close and too personal, with quite little breathing room for the admittedly antisocial and defensive Somnus.

“If you’re going for a stroll, Your Highness, how about you join me on mine instead?”

Your Highness. Like some runaway prince. Just the fact that it had taken all this time for someone to finally call him by his proper title felt ridiculous. Ardyn they called lord, Ardyn they called majesty; Somnus had always been Somnus unless he was directing soldiers around. Even then he was commander to most of them and lord only to Gilgamesh.

The moment Somnus had reluctantly told his account when the man did not stop pestering him about it, Verstael had called for history checks. Apparently the Healer King had never had a brother, the plague had taken his beloved first wife, and the person he married after that had been a survivor of a bandit attack on a village he had gone to visit. Just the fact that Ardyn had had descendants that still sat the throne of the Kingdom of Lucis a ridiculous number of years later had nearly sent him on a rampage. The scientists had not liked him smashing that machine into pieces.

Verstael had only marvelled at the sheer strength an infuriated Somnus displayed. It was almost a little unnerving.

Then again, Somnus had been the exact same. He sought to wreak havoc for the sake of wreaking havoc; Verstael sought strength for the sake of having it as far as Somnus knew.

It didn’t mean that he and the man were partners in crime. Well, at least Verstael seemed to think this with the uncomfortable familiarity he displayed even if he kept the talk formal and polite as to not step on Somnus’ toes; no matter what he was dealing with a creature that refused to die and that just so happened to be the Lucian Healer King’s younger brother. A younger brother that was never mentioned in the pages of history, and even the mentions of Adagium were rare and usually only covered a creature that arose in a far part in the country and that Ardyn, blessed be his name, had banished from Lucis to the island of Angelgard so that the people would never have to fear it ever again.

Somnus on the other hand considered Verstael a nuisance, a bother, someone who was in his way and definitely should not be acting as if they were allies. Yet as things stood, he had no way out of Niflheim. Hells, he could barely read the modern script. A map would be virtually useless to him, even if he would not freeze to death in the Niff countryside. And even in the off chance that he would be able to make it to Lucis, then what?

He hadn’t decided yet. Something about Ardyn’s descendants being around _bothered_ him. Something about the country merely existing bothered him. But he couldn’t quite place what it was—he had gotten to deal a decisive blow to Ardyn, for allegedly no matter how much time passed the man never fully recovered from losing his first wife to the plague.

Good.

“How about I don’t,” Somnus muttered, but Verstael did not take no for an answer. After a few minutes of back and forth, Somnus admitted defeat and shrugged, saying that he would come along, then. He didn’t have the patience to argue with that blonde moron any longer—even though he had even less patience for the prattle about experiments and knowledge and things that Lucis hid from the view of the other countries for all these centuries. It was like listening to Aera and Ardyn preach the will of the gods when even their actions did nothing to stem the flood of the infected, to a point that Ardyn and Somnus both bristled, hurled insults at each other, and stalked away from one another after _hours_ of arguing how to proceed with this. Ardyn had always preached the worth of one even in the mass of people and insisted that every life had to be saved for it was worth that much; Somnus had always removed the personality and looked for a solution that might save however few people he could.

Granted, it had been extreme.

Too extreme perhaps, but the circumstances were dire and most definitely required a sterner and more unforgiving guidance than what Ardyn promised. Even the history books claimed that; the plague ran rampant for a few hundred years and to this day sprung up on occasion. No king or queen of Lucis managed to subjugate the thing that Verstael called parasites.

His head was spinning by the time the madman _finally_ took a moment to shut the hell up. He was worse than Aera with his prattling, worse than every single strategist under the scorching sun of summer. Somnus rolled his eyes and continued walking through the hallway, suddenly aware that the man had led them to a part of the _facility_ that Somnus had never been in.

He stopped halfway down the stairs once he realised that Verstael was not following him and turned around. They stared at each other for a while, before Verstael let out one of these annoying faked sighs that the man was liable to drop every time he realised that his prized _Adagium_ did not listen to most of what he said.

Some soldiers called it arrogance. Somnus was fully aware of that, but at the same time he just simply had no interest in learning about this world. Why did he have to, when his job was to drown it all in darkness anyway once he understood how to exactly do that?

They stared at each other for a moment, but then Somnus shrugged. “Please, stop pouting. Just repeat what you deem important enough for me to know that you now look as if I personally throttled every single, ah, _cloned_ puppy in your _facility_. _”_

Sometimes he really truly wanted to strangle several things in here, Verstael himself included. That infuriating man spoke in thrice-damned riddles most of the time, and the one time Somnus had tried to keep up out of boredom he found himself buried in enough scientific jargon that it triggered his migraines. Everything about this Niflheim place had made him develop migraines in the first place, the sheer amount of miasma that was kept in this place and the fact that the sunlight made him want to burrow into the ground all aside.

The man continued frowning for about a minute longer, then sighed loudly. At least he continued walking after that, and started from the top.

Something about grand discoveries in Lucis. Something. Something. Honestly, Somnus already wasn’t listening any longer by the time they reached the bottom of the staircase and Verstael stopped to open that next door. Just the prospect of maybe seeing something that wasn’t dreary metal hallways for _once_ excited Somnus.

“I have been meaning to show you this.”

He definitely was not prepared for the next sight.

Only once had Somnus been relatively close to Cauthess; back during a hunting trip with Gilgamesh that had nearly ended in catastrophe. The Archaean had been impressive from a distance, with the man who was known for his quiet stoicism even _smiling_ as he told the legend of how the Archaean caught the meteor and held it aloft for the people of the lands he once helped form. Of course, telling a story like that to a teenager when the sun was setting led to them getting blindsided by one of the plague’s many monstrosities, but that was beside the point.

Of all things that Verstael could have been meaning to show Somnus, this had to be… one of the most out of the blue things that not even Somnus himself would have ever expected. A god. A thrice-damned _god._ And they had put him on ice, if Somnus saw this correctly. As a man who had invited the chaos while approaching a god, even he had his limits. And digging out the vengeful Pyreburner definitely was rather high on the list of things that Somnus would call plain _hubris._

He crossed his arms and turned to look at the man. Heavens above and hells below, that utter waste of space was _grinning._ Was he mistaking Somnus’ apprehension for amazement? How deranged and unable to read a human’s expression was this man?

“Our research on you and your powers has reached a most interesting hypothesis I wish to confirm.” Verstael walked to stand in front of the thin-looking glass that kept them separated from the Infernian. Somnus did not follow him. “Your powers could rival that of the Six, that much we have concluded. You gain your victims’ memories through process of daemonification. What I wonder is… could you turn him?”

“You wish to make the knowledge of the divine your own.”

“Consider it scientific curiosity.”

He considered it absolute nonsense, but what he had gathered from his stay here was that this Niflheim very desperately wanted to become and surpass the long dead civilisation of Solheim. And Verstael Besithia very much wanted to learn how that ancient civilisation had managed to turn the gods against them.

Somnus’ belief in the Hexatheon had rotted over the years he spent in confinement; he considered it yet another lamentably annoying figment of Ardyn and Aera that deserved being stomped on. He had definitely made Verstael raise an eyebrow when he had not even briefly paused to pray—apparently people from before the new calendar were considered perhaps the most pious people out there, especially from Lucis around the time the Healer King rose to power.

Still, for a split moment he was not happy about any of this. The Pyreburner was a secret that Lucis kept just as much as they had kept his own existence a secret—Verstael had gleefully claimed that every local legend had proven to be true, and it was only a matter of time before they found the Blademaster as well, whatever that was. Adagium and the Infernian were real, so everything else had to be true as well. As much has he had no opinion on the gods other than the Bladekeeper, something about awakening and subjugating the Pyreburner sounded wrong.

At the same time it sounded exciting.

He had wondered how precisely he could reach a scale of destruction that would rival that of the fall of Solheim. It was rather obvious that one of the factors that counted for that destruction would be a perfectly suitable card in his deck.

He noticed the way that madman was grinning at him. Somnus rolled his eyes. “Fine. I’ll bite. I cannot tell you whether an attempt will be met with success and thus proving your hypothesis or not, but given that you already dragged me here we might as well.”

“Marvellous.”

He had expected the roof to rain down upon them, with the glass shattering and the tortured metal creaking as more Lucians beset them. They had to have learned who had spirited away _Adagium_ by now, yet none of them had made a move. Somnus took a deep breath as he stepped into the warehouse while following Verstael like an obedient dog rather than a wolf ready to pounce when the time was right and half expected someone or something to toss a dagger at him or shoot him in the head. Nothing of the sort happened, the warehouse was abandoned and surprisingly empty. He noted there was a door of some sort that likely led into the wintery hellscape that the outside was, but Verstael led him to a door that yielded yet more stairs. Hells below, the architecture in this place was redundant and confusing and infuriating.

It led around the icy cage they had put the sleeping Infernian in, he noticed after a moment and into a control room of some sort. Verstael messed with yet another door for a moment, muttering something about temperature control and the effect on human bodies.

“Your concern would be most _charming_ if you were not forgetting a rather important factoid about my very existence,” Somnus sighed and shoved the man aside once the click of the door unlocking echoed through the room.

Monsters didn’t die that easily. Only a pyre raised high to the heavens had erased the plague and its monsters, something that not even Ardyn had managed. The people hated him for it, and truth be told he could have acted a tad less ruthless about it—but the places he purged were free from the plague. Completely. Utterly. There would not be any people turning any time soon, nor would an entire army of these creatures rise with the sunset to tear the living and uninfected into shreds.

The only time he had come face to face with a deity had been that very night he had placed his hands against the Crystal and demanded an answer from the gods. Bahamut had rather quickly run him through without a second thought, but now that he pondered on it for a moment the god had likely reversed the fate he had spun. Transferred Ardyn’s role to him, transferred these _parasites_ as well. Not that Somnus minded or cared. It was what he had wanted.

It was definitely cold. Somnus only wondered how Verstael had concluded that ice would keep the Infernian asleep for much longer. Even from his position here he could feel the heat and irritation radiating off the god of fire; not a good combination. He was not the best at guessing games, but within less than a week the Pyreburner would have risen regardless of what they did to keep him on ice, and then not even the machines Verstael so praised would have helped him against the rage of a god awoken.

“Goodness, goodness. Always sticking his grubby paws where they do not belong, is he?” Somnus sighed and hopped up to the platform where they kept the Infernian proper. He noticed that there were a handful scientists and soldiers watching. “Like an excitable child. Except the child is rotten to the core and enjoys goring injured animals until their flesh separates from their bones while they still draw breath. ‘Twould be almost endearing, were there not already someone else who ought to take that role.”

The Bladekeeper had stomped him into the ground and run him through that night. Somnus did not stomp on the ever so slightly stirring god below him; he instead crouched down next to the Infernian’s hand. Just the fact that this creature could easily snap him in half like a twig with one hand was intimidating enough, but Somnus was not here to revere the gods as he once had beside Ardyn and Aera and Gilgamesh. No, he was here because the gods had needed a destroyer, and as off the rails as Verstael was, he had a point.

If Somnus could bring a deity under his control, nothing could ever stop him. The very Hexatheon themselves would have to bow to him if he managed to get his own grubby hands on them. Perhaps the most crass way to rebel against his brother and their people’s beliefs, but still a way to show them that they should never have ignored the storm brewing in the shadows around them. Not that they were still alive.

But he still had the chance to make their descendants pay.

“Not that you get any say in the matter. Rise, O Pyreburner! Rise, and help me sow the discord you deities of old want me to!”

* * *

Quite a few people who had been gunning for the position of chancellor voiced displeasure. Base insults did nothing to Somnus Izunia, one of the factors that allowed the empire to finally turn the tides of the war. Instead of a stalemate they were pushing the frontline further and further towards Insomnia, to a degree that even Lucis was quivering under now. The Wall was the next big opponent in that war, something that they would have to break through eventually. No walls stood forever, be they magical or brick and mortar.

Still, those people that had been infighting over the position of chancellor had no qualms about showing their displeasure. Rat, some called him.

Others even went as far as accusing him of sleeping his way to the top—there was no way someone as physically unimpressive as him with absolutely no regard for proper political discussions could have made it this far. There had to be a reason why Somnus wore gloves even inside buildings, there had to a reason why his hat was wide enough that it blocked the sun from his face—and the perceived reason was that he used the mystery to his advantage in seductions.

He laughed about it with Verstael later in the lab, one glove off and a glass of wine in the other. Politicians, Verstael always said, were barely more than rats running in a maze that they themselves had constructed. It should have surprised him that the madman from the laboratories of Niflheim cared little about actual politics, but then again Somnus did not care. Not in the slightest.

What he did care about was the sheer amount of time that Verstael wasted on side-projects. There was an undeniable _something_ that took his time up, something that he did not tell anyone else about. Not even his prized Adagium who controlled the Infernian.

He had gotten rid of every single person who had not been Verstael who knew about the fact that he had managed to turn the Infernian. One by one, one after another. Like a shadow he had hurried through the hallways, had made certain that the bodies were disposed of when the morning came once more. Not a single scientist or soldier who knew about that day was alive except for their wonderful commander. The wonderful commander who wasted his precious time with something.

Somnus set the glass of wine down.

Perhaps there were more _orthodox_ ways of getting his point across, but by now he had concluded several things about the madman he worked beside. Where Somnus desired destruction for the sake of it, the prophecy be damned, Verstael desired glory before anything else. He wanted the people to see him as a genius capable of subjugating the entire world if he just got his hands on the right ingredients.

The supermassive ego did definitely not do that many any favours. Ardyn had considered himself chosen by the gods and in turn had been insufferably high and mighty; Verstael was naught but a man hell-bent on proving himself superior. They were alike in a sense. Disgusting.

But the massively inflated ego provided an opening that Somnus had not counted on—it was _easy_ to wrap this man around his fingers. Faked interest in machinery had certainly made Verstael more likely to spend time around his prized-possession-turned-partner. While the endless prattle still made his head throb, Somnus instead decided to copy Aera. Smiles that were blinding but that never reached his eyes as he dealt with someone he could barely stand. She had dealt with a good deal of people like that, but none of them had grown up around the woman to see the difference between her blinding fake smile and the brilliant one that lit up her features every time she was around Ardyn. How she regarded Somnus depended on the time of the day and their respective mood; as children it had always been the real one, but the older they got the faker her smiles became.

Either way, Somnus folded his hands and leaned forwards a little.

“If I may,” he said, his voice deliberately kept softer than usual, “I would like to apologise.”

“Apologise? Whatever for, dear chancellor?”

Ah. Wine. Ardyn had been overly fond of it, Somnus himself had never quite acquired the taste. As little as he cared about the world at large, he would have definitely preferred one of these ridiculously sweet things that Verstael had called… soda, was it? Either way, unfortunate as it was, wine was the ingredient necessary for Somnus’ next plan. The fact that the scientist’s face was already tinged red told him that now was the best moment to strike.

“For my insistence on starting off on the wrong foot, of course. Had I only known that the empire would be such a fantastic host, why, I would have stopped resisting and accepted you as partner right away!” He unfolded his hands and gestured vaguely. “Had I but skipped the needlessly bristly part we could have begun right away and would not still be trying to figure out that last piece of how to get beyond the Lucian Wall! But alas, I did not. And for that, my friend, you have my most sincere apologies.”

Verstael chewed on these words for a moment. The man sipped his wine, reached for a refill after a few moments, and then hummed.

“How we got here is irrelevant; the important part is that we reached a mutual understanding, Your Highness.”

There it was. Highness.

Somnus sighed deeply and stood up, the Niff scientist looking kind of confused.

He needed to know what exactly it was that this man was planning. Somnus suspected something about immortality; considering how extensively his regenerative powers had been tested and how many times Verstael lamented the fact that a single human life would never be enough to unravel the very thread that the world was woven from. This fool hungered for knowledge, and likely desired immortality to sate that hunger. Which, unfortunately, was not precisely the thing that Somnus needed right now. He needed a blunt weapon that was willing to smash itself into the Lucian Wall so he could go and greet his darling family and perhaps demand an audience with the Draconian. If that meeting went anything like the one with the Infernian….

The Draconian wanted a harbinger of darkness. Ardyn had definitely not been made for that, but knowing Ardyn he would have focused on petty revenge over just how good a hand he had been dealt in the grand design of things. Somnus on the other hand was a choice that the Astrals had not expected to have, and by the very hells that broiled within every cell of his body, he was going to make them regret this choice. They wanted destruction, death and decay? He was going to give it to them, on a silver platter, complete with themselves as the main course!

But in order to get into the Crown City, he needed a power he did not quite have yet. As much as he hated it, he needed allies he could discard when he got what he wanted.

He needed to know what it was that Verstael wanted so he could wring his loyalty out of him that way. Throw the dog a bone, and it might actually do the trick eventually. Verstael had called his powers enough to rival the gods; and what did gods do but weave false promises and lies to get loyalty out of people?

Somnus, who valued his personal space above all else and was often called antisocial at meetings, walked over to where Verstael Besithia sat. This man above all else in this country knew just how much Adagium needed his personal space and that the man was less than apprehensive about grievously harming any person who violated that personal space without asking for permission first. Thus he looked rather shocked when Somnus bent over so their faces were barely apart.

“Are we not partners? You may drop the ‘Highness’ at any point if you so desire.”

Any other situation and Somnus would have gagged at how red this man turned. But since the irony of this display was lost on the man whose brilliant mind definitely was going down the gutter right now, Somnus instead smiled one of Aera’s token fake smiles. They had been laughing about the politicians assuming that he had somehow seduced several people, up to and including the thrice-damned emperor.

Might as well do what the public demanded—just not in the way they expected. Emperor Aldercapt, really? Ha! Verstael Besithia already had that fool wrapped around his fingers.

“You might consider it a stroke of luck that brought us together, but I daresay ‘twas more than that. Some might call the Lady Fate fickle and inescapable, but I do have to offer her my thanks for guiding me right to your side.”

He had to admit, in hindsight he had truly loved that fisherwoman even if just for a few months. There was a stark difference between how he had felt for her, and how he felt about Verstael Besithia, but unfortunately sometimes throwing a bone meant doing something that he found revolting. Honestly, the alcohol considered, Verstael reacted rather dignified to having his face held and being kissed by the very subject of his studies. Hells, he reacted at all and returned that kiss after a split moment of shock.

Ugh. _Revolting._ He backed away slightly after staying long enough that it at least seemed as if he had meant it.

“Call me Somnus, will you?”

* * *

It had been a hearty round of arguing, but in the end he had won the argument. Some might call it a lovers’ spat, but truly, Somnus felt nothing but hatred for the man at this point.

In the end, Somnus’ claim of him being an unkillable entity meant that no resources would be wasted if he went by himself to check how to eventually bring Insomnia to its knees. Their latest prodding of the Wall had _unfortunately_ caused King Mors to have a heart attack and led to his _most_ untimely demise. The Wall had flickered but not broken, its strength the same as it had been before. But even Somnus all the way back in Niflheim had felt the very _moment_ Prince Regis slipped on the Ring of the Lucii during his coronation. He knew even long before the reports came back that the Wall had gotten stronger and that there was simply no way to break through with brute force now.

Verstael and Somnus argued for _hours_ on end about how to proceed. He wanted to show Emperor Aldercapt that they were ready to take over Lucis by brute force; Somnus insisted that it was too early for an assault of that scale. The easiest way to break a wall was to chisel away on it on two fronts, but getting a Niff inside the Wall was a feat that none of them had ever truly managed.

Somnus was not a Niff, he argued. Even if found out, they would not be able to kill him. Worst came to worst he would be carted off to Angelgard once again, for Lucis knew that they would not be killing Adagium any time soon.

After a while Verstael gave in. The man did not look happy about it the slightest, but when faced with arguments like that he was liable to accept logic over the irrational desire to show off. Somnus had managed to knock a few notches out of the scientist over the last handful years, until this very moment in time.

He couldn’t help but give an ironic wave as he hopped out of the still flying airship.

All this time had given him a better understanding of his own powers to boot. Anyone else would have broken every single lousy bone in their body, but Somnus landed perfectly on his feet and not at all worse for wear. He readjusted a glove with a sigh.

Finding a member of the border guard was easy enough. The fool was even on his own. Perhaps wearing the appearance of a man he turned into twitching and gargling mess on the ground was not the best idea, Somnus thought as he bent over to snatch the name tag off the man. He ignored the cloud of miasma that burst from the twitching mess and instead used the sudden silence to study the name tag. If anyone called for him he ought to react to the given name, after all. Without much further ado, he quickly slapped the tag onto his arm and marched to the gates.

* * *

He discarded the disguise once he got closer to the city centre. According to Verstael the city was preparing for the anniversary celebrations of the kingdom’s founding. They really only celebrated that within the first five years of a new regents ascension to the throne, and therefore this one was kind of special. Prince Regis had been beloved by the people to begin with, but now that he sat the throne too early they utterly adored him. Him and his queen—according to intel his marriage with Queen Aulea had been arranged, but for the newly crowned King Regis it was like marrying his best friend. A good, even match, all things considered. And it was rather obvious that the two of them were fond of each other.

Useless information that Verstael paid too much attention to; likely in an attempt to one day deliver a blow against King Regis by killing his wife. Somnus would have broken into barking laughter—history was a flat circle, as he had started to learn once he unfortunately had to pay more attention to it in order to keep his grip on Verstael and therefore Emperor Aldercapt under control. Another King of Lucis who fell in love with a Fleuret Oracle, and once more it wound up with him cradling her broken body in his arms. Once more the implausibly young sibling of the Oracle was tasked with continuing the Fleuret bloodline while the King of Lucis eventually returned to this jewel in the crown of Lucis.

The city’s name itself seemed to be the only twisted record of the Healer King’s brother that survived to this day. Insomnia. He truly hoped that Ardyn not once had a good night’s sleep after that day he lost Aera and banished Adagium to that island.

He melded into the frankly ridiculous amount of people who walked down the streets in this place even without the disguise, and some people stopped just as he did to watch some workers put up a flagpole for the festival at the end of the week. The only festival that he could think of right now that warranted some sort of town-wide decorations had been the harvest festival in the fishing village. Of course, that paled in comparison to the nonsensical amount of tacky garbage that the people in Insomnia put up for this Founder King’s Festival. The sheer vanity of this was almost impressive and decidedly both perfectly in character for Ardyn and yet somehow managed to sound like one of his descendants had come up with it because Ardyn himself would never do something like this. Somnus swerved around a group of people marvelling at a bunch of balloons being brought into position and noted the magical amplifier just a few sets of stairs further down.

The source of the Wall quite obviously sat in the Citadel up ahead, but it was good to know that there were amplifiers around. It explained how the Wall had continued existing even though King Mors had died just long enough for his son to slip on the Ring of the Lucii in a haphazardly rushed crowning ceremony. Unless the direct source was taken out, the Wall would not be going down any time soon—assuming, of course, there was an heir to take care of the Wall after the king’s untimely demise. King Regis was called a tad too young perhaps, but proved that his age did not matter in this equation.

Somnus gagged a little. It seemed that disgustingly noble behaviour ran in the god damned family. Couldn’t they have inherited something less obnoxious from their glorious gods-chosen Founder King?

He considered slinking around the Citadel to find a way in that did not require warping; Verstael insisted on not giving his powers away quite yet. Somnus was rather tempted to turn the communicator off entirely.

He did when he turned around a corner and came face to face with something that made his blood broil.

The artist had definitely taken a few liberties; Ardyn had not once donned armour and gone into battle that way. The height seemed right at least, but everything else was off. Ardyn, their beloved Founder King, in a suit of armour standing tall and protecting his city. He very desperately wanted to start laughing right on the spot, but all he felt was seething rage.

Chosen by the gods for everything, even the role of destroyer. And now he had even been given Somnus’ only thing to set the brothers apart—the willingness to go into combat.

He needed to check something. Ardyn was thorough if nothing else, and the fact that the Niffs called him Adagium was likely linked to that. He needed to know. He very desperately needed to know whether his name was known to the royal family.

Oh, he was fully aware that his sudden silence worried the Niffs outside the Wall. It wouldn’t be long until some Lucian spotted them on a radar anyway.

But Somnus, his coat billowing behind him, had turned on the spot and warped through a window in the Citadel from where he stood. He shadowstepped around the people that came to investigate the commotion, stuck to the shadows as he always had when an alarm went through the castle that Ardyn had built. Oh, he could have caused even more of commotion rather easily. He could have left a trail of corpses behind him, and he was about one more mood drop away from doing so, but he was not here to kill all these useless peasants.

They were talking about a breach protocol, mentioned something about fortifying the Crystal—and mentioned the king.

Niflheim was not particularly sneaky about secrets or hidden things. The heavier something was guarded the more the likelihood of something of value being around increased. Considering that most of Lucis dressed like thrice-damned assassins and often the best-hidden things were in plain sight, Somnus slammed the doors to the throne room open completely unimpeded.

Surely enough, King Regis was in there. Beside him stood a tall slab of meat that likely was the man they called Shield of the King, and… either a teenager or a man much younger than the king. The teenager immediately drew a sword, while the Shield of the King’s moment of confusion stopped and he reached for the communicator.

Somnus intercepted that rather quickly by toppling the man and snatching the communicator from his hands, then backed away immediately to dodge a swipe from the kid with the sword. Rather than deal with an armed brat he reached for that kid’s sword, grabbed it by the blade, and yanked. Just the fact that the stranger in their castle did not care about his profusely bleeding hand was enough to push the king off the edge he had been sitting on; but much to the collective horror of the three Lucians the intruder retaliated in kind.

“Royal arms!?”

He put a finger on his lips. “Shh. Commoners ought not speak when around nobility unless when asked to.”

Shield and kid both turned to look at King Regis, who looked rather unsettled right now. All those brilliantly blue weapons that floated about the room were ready to strike at any given moment, and Somnus cracked a grin when he dismissed his. He really only wanted to startle the hell out of these fools.

He had deliberately chosen something that obscured his face as he leaned down, and the clothes he wore were definitely of Lucian making. It would be hard to trace this intruder back to Niflheim’s chancellor; as far as the Lucian public was concerned that man was bound to labs just as much as Verstael Besithia was.

King Regis shuffled a little and also dismissed his swords. “Adagium.”

A deep sigh. “Quite so. Though I might as well be a man of no consequence to you.”

That made the two fools beside the king bristle. But Somnus was not here to pay attention to these two. “Really, I was going to leave without an audience, Your _Majesty._ But you have already given me the answer I desire.”

He dropped the communicator. Dropped the sword. Threw his arms open.

“Pray give the Bladekeeper my warmest regards.”

Surprisingly enough, they let him go. He would have expected a young hothead like King Regis to immediately toss himself at the intruder, would have expected the Shield or the trembling young man to follow their liege’s lead. But his brother’s descendant stood still with horror glimmering in his eyes with a hand raised to keep his two minions under control as the fabled Adagium walked free.

Impressive. That was some kingly resolve.

It didn’t stop Somnus from taking out one or seven servants on the way out. At least some blood that wasn’t his own on his hands would make the inevitable pathetic scolding from Verstael a little better.

* * *

“Come now, really? You are aware that I was merely scouting out how to take care of the Wall; information I did in fact return with.”

Oh yes, now this truly could count as a lovers’ spat. Somnus kept himself from recoiling when Verstael all but slammed his hands on his shoulders.

“And yet you refuse to tell me what made you bleed in there? And do not even _try_ making a fool of me; you did kill someone in there, yes. But even your perfectly regenerated skin did not hide the fact that your gloves were torn. Who, or what, saw through your disguise and nearly compromised the mission, Somnus?”

He pinned Verstael with what he hoped amounted to a fond smile. “Why, one would think you are worried about _me_ rather than the mission.”

And that defused the situation. Verstael let go, turned around, and almost immediately left.

Somnus gagged once the door fell shut.

_Yikes._

That man _really_ loved him, loved him just as much as the secrets of the world that Somnus held.

* * *

At the very least, going through Emperor Aldercapt’s council was easy enough. With the cloning technology and just a little nudge from Somnus, he all but turned the brightest mind in Niflheim into a conspirator for the throne. Not that either of them cared about the throne. Verstael wanted to further his research and the almost boundless amounts of money it consumed. Somnus only wanted a better grip on the empire’s two leading heads.

And thus, one by one, he wormed his way into the hearts of the people that once reviled him as rat seeing an opportunity to strike rich. Where they once had accused him of sleeping his way to the top, Somnus now deliberately used the fact that he had proven that he had not to his advantage. One by one the council members were lured in and went missing for several days. When they returned, something about them was off.

Clones, rapidly aged and not put through the daemonification process that made up the MT project’s most dangerous ingredient. They were taught just about enough that they did not quite seem right, but unless someone tortured them for information, these clones were perfectly fine as replacements. And thus was even more funding channelled to Verstael, which kept him happy—which in turn meant that Somnus’ influence on the council and therefore Emperor Aldercapt increased. Truly, there had to be more orthodox ways to do this, he grumbled each and every time while wiping the blood off his face and reaching for something or other.

Sometimes it was just another bite of food that tasted like ash to him.

Sometimes he merely reached for his shirt again, a more than displeased expression on his face.

Niflheim and Lucis would both burn, he promised the Infernian somewhere in the back of his head, but all in due time. These vermin were not better than the rats enjoying a spot in the sun. Before long, the very heavens would tremble.

But in order to do that he would need to do something.

He watched with plain disinterest as the council made plans to kill King Regis’ son. Only when they suggested sneaking in a Daemon to do the deed for them, he sat up straighter in his seat.

He’d heard the Bladekeeper’s booming voice when that brat had been deemed the King of Light. Somnus cared little about the prophecy that Verstael brought up time and time again—that Lucis would save the world from everlasting dark. Or, to be more precise, a child of House Lucis Caelum hand in hand with yet another Fleuret Oracle. Perhaps as a mirror of the Healer King and his wife, most likely because the gods liked their idiotic book ends.

But if this child truly was chosen to die, there was no way in hell that Bahamut would let him die before the anointed time. Attacking him was futile—but a Daemon attack usually brought the first onsets of the plague with them.

Somnus had deliberately spread it a little when he had not been systematically undermining the Niflheim council. Perhaps a little too much; all in order to learn as much about the world as he could. As little as he cared still, knowledge was perhaps the most useful part in how to deliberately tear every foundation of this world apart. And one thing he learned was that the Oracle bloodline could do what Ardyn had been able to despite no blood relation to the Lucis Caelums.

They could heal.

If the bratling survived the attack and fell ill, then there was no way he would not be taken to Tenebrae, to the seat of the Oracle. The sole part of Tenebrae that was not under imperial occupation—a show of respect, perhaps, but mostly the fact that the Oracle was needed for the world. Somnus had not dared approaching it quite yet.

But now he had his opening.

If the child died, good riddance. If the child survived but fell ill, all the better. If the child survived and did not fall ill, well, there would be other openings for the Fleuret family _and_ the Lucis Caelums.

He called the plan sound and worth an attempt, and promised that he and the science department would start working on a proper trap for the child posthaste. Oh, yes.

Ardyn, Aera, Bahamut and every single person over two thousand years ago had sown fire.

Somnus was going to reap a blaze with the blood of their descendants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (somnus voice) you better watch out, you better watch out, you better watch out, you better watch out, adagium is coming to town


	3. the ones left behind (i'll make you pay for that misstep)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OF NOTE:  
> 20yo noctis has his 30yo haircut for this au

Verstael was _fuming._ He generally fumed around his birthday, the passage of years affecting him more and more. Somnus could count the last time the man had not been furious out of petty reasons on one hand—once, a couple of years ago, when something or someone had spirited away a single specimen. But around his birthday the man turned back into a furious child, hissing and spitting and all the more aware of the fact that he was mortal and time was not going to stop for him.

Somnus meanwhile stayed the same throughout the years. His entire body had been stopped in that very moment, 34 years old and laughing as the village he had lived in for three years burnt behind him. No, rather 30 years old and angrily raising his voice to the Crystal, against the very heavens themselves.

Which, of course, people noticed. He disposed of them. But Verstael was still too useful—the war with Lucis was once again at a standstill, the last part of the kingdom and the very seat of its power unaffected as everything bounced off the Wall. Somnus had offered flying solo again. The offer had been knocked declined before he even stopped speaking.

He stopped playing with his pen and looked up.

“Your mood is positively vile today, Verstael. Troubles in the labs?”

There weren’t any. Somnus had made certain of that, and their new creation had likely arrived in Lucis by now. The man dismissed the statement with a wave of his hand and kept pacing.

Ah. _Humans._ Even Aera had grown weary of the passage of time, mostly because she spent the last years before the gods made their choice worrying about her eternal fiancé, his ailing health and the fact that they were apart more than they were together. At first Somnus had acted under a request from his brother—keep Aera inside and safe, the outside simply wasn’t. She really had not liked being holed up and more often than not it had ended in verbal fighting matches between the two of them, but usually she gave in to logic after a while. It certainly did not stop her from escaping whenever she heard about Ardyn being nearby, and Somnus had better things to do than chase after his future sister-in-law. He really only made certain to catch her when it definitely was going to get dangerous sometime soon.

Usually when people were moaning for Ardyn enough that he attempted to get his older brother back by force. Not that any of the soldiers ever succeeded—slippery bastard. But those were the times he generally made sure that Aera was all but locked up.

He started drumming his fingers on the table and watched Verstael pace some more. After about twenty more minutes of this nonsense, he sighed loudly and shoved his chair backwards a little.

“Your incessant pacing will be the death of you long before whatever you mull over will come to pass.” At least that made him stop and Somnus ran a hand down his face. “Whatever it is that worries you so, I can assure you we will be getting good news soon and that will make you forget about this nonsense.”

Verstael opened his mouth to likely complain like a child, but he never got to say a word. The door to the room was ripped open by a man in uniform, who apologised profoundly while desperately trying to catch his breath.

“The Daemon at least severely wounded the prince! Unfortunately it was shoved into a cleft in the earth, so we will have to wait until extraction, but it seems we at least landed a partial success!”

Happy birthday, bastard. The worries about ageing certainly vanished from Verstael’s features.

Somnus only chewed on his pen.

* * *

He had always had an affinity for fire. Out of all children in his age bracket he showed the least respect around it, approached campfires and the like in a way that only a bold kid with no regard for their own safety could. Somnus was already considered a bad omen, and the only thee people who ever pulled him from the flames whenever he got too close were, in order, Ardyn, Aera and Gilgamesh. Out of these three it was only Ardyn who ever held him for longer than a few moments while telling him to not get closer; and Somnus never quite understood what was so bad. Campfires were contained. Of course he knew they could turn into wildfires, he knew that fire did not differentiate between friend and foe, between child and elder—after all, the Infernian had been betrayed and therefore his element had turned against humanity.

But he quickly learned that a torch could be as powerful as a sword, that a candle could banish the nightmares just as well as his brother could. Fire was a dangerous plaything, yet at the same time it was a good, comforting friend when handled with the correct amount of respect for it and disregard for how dangerous it was.

Tenebrae was just like Aera’s beloved fields of flowers. It made sense that she hailed from there, that her family remained there even as she was taken to the other continent for her studies at the tender age of five and remained there for the rest of her life. It was lush, it was brilliant.

It was absolutely disgusting.

What was perhaps more disgusting was the scene that he walked into. Genera Glauca, their prized traitor behind King Regis’ own lines was struggling to get back up to his feet. He had been smashed into a tree of all things. Fires dotted the forests around Fenestala Manor, and the sheer amount of smoke made it hard for them to find the wayward King Regis, Prince Noctis, Clarus Amicitia and Lunafreya Nox Fleuret. According to the few soldiers that had been sent on this mission, Lunafreya had let go of King Regis’ hand, but Clarus Amicitia had all but picked her up and ran with her. There was still a fair chance that they were hiding somewhere in the forests, and MTs as well as as many soldiers as they could spare were combing the place.

Somnus dismissed the soldier with a handwave and ignored Glauca. The Galahd tribe had always been flighty and better fighting in open areas than anything else, but he was not going to deal with a traitor. Though a traitor himself, Somnus definitely did not want his part in that man’s idiotic revenge plot.

He pushed past a bunch of MTs that had returned from their scouting mission and the technician who was evaluating the results and went to a rather gruesome mess of soft earth turned sludge and the distinct smell of burnt flesh.

He had never met Corvus Mirus Fleuret. The kid had been ten when Somnus had killed his elder sister; and while accepted and officially claimed by his father the fact that he had been a bastard child no less than 21 years younger than the official heir remained. The boy sitting there clutching his profusely bleeding arm looked neither like Aera nor like the baby brother she saw exactly once shortly before the gods made their choice.

Somnus bent down and tried to catch the boy’s attention. Unfortunately his eyes were glazed over and his breathing was erratic—shock. Mixed together with the blood loss, Ravus Nox Fleuret was going to die if nothing happened. Upon further consideration, the bloody chunk in front of the boy likely was Sylva Via Fleuret, his mother.

He bent down and reached for Ravus’ chin, tilted the boy’s head up. Even now the glaze of shock did not leave his eyes, and Somnus was rather certain that this boy said nothing. Somnus merely clicked his tongue. “Poor thing,” he said softly, and Ravus shuddered. “Why must the army insist on such wanton bloodshed, I will never know… If I may, we do quite need a medic over here!”

Ravus blinked at him several times as a bunch of people came hurrying over to make sure the boy did not bleed to death. It was a small acknowledgement, but it was an acknowledgement regardless; the boy did not consider him a threat any longer.

It was just a few minutes later, when the people decided that perhaps the king and the others had escaped that Somnus felt a familiar flare of magic rather far away. He excused himself from the meeting and said that he was going to check something, and vanished before Glauca could demand the chancellor stayed here. If nothing else, Somnus Izunia was known for being a slippery bastard that not even his closest _friend_ Verstael Besithia could nail down for longer than strictly necessary.

This place was the exact opposite of the fields that Aera loved, on the other hand. She had always adored nature, but something about forests had always instilled her with a certain amount of reverie for how grand Eos truly was. Where other children and teenagers had gone to hide somewhere in the bushes or tried climbing trees, Aera had always stayed out of the forests unless Ardyn offered her a hand and led her. This place would have been a nightmare for her, which made the fact that her distant relatives lived in the middle of a forest even all the more amusing. He paid no attention to the plumes of smoke and small fires that spread even to this part, but as he closed the distance between where he still felt the surge of familiar magic as quickly as he could he noted that the smoke was less intense here. King Regis had hidden himself, his Shield and the children away in the smoke and instead led the empire on a wild goose chase because they assumed he would.

“No! I have to—let me go, Sir Clarus!”

The voice of an indignant child on the verge of tears cut through the crackle of fire around him. There was just one spot, a fire that was slowly spreading and that made it hard to see through that flame.

“Lunafreya,” the familiar voice of King Regis began as Somnus made certain to pull his hat as much into his face as possible—after all, that was what the Imperial Chancellor Izunia looked like on TV and everywhere else. A man without a face.

“But Ravus…!”

“Will live,” Somnus said, and stepped into the clearing that the four people were huddled in. King Regis looked nearly the same as ten years ago; definitely older and more tired thanks to the weight of rulership on his shoulders, but definitely the same. Clarus Amicitia also looked similar, but this time around he immediately broke out his sword and shield to stand between his liege, the two children, and the chancellor. Lunafreya immediately pressed into King Regis’ side; a spitting image of Aera to a degree it was uncanny. Prince Noctis, the thrice-damned Chosen King of Light, a title that not even his distant ancestor had gotten, clung to his father, his legs no longer completely useless but definitely still too weak to run away from anything.

Somnus raised his hands. “There is no need for hostilities, Lord Amicitia.”

“Yeah, right,” the man grumbled, a fury blazing in his eyes that reminded Somnus of Gilgamesh.

“Fair point! I am of your enemy nation, but the fact that I am unarmed ought to paint enough of a picture for you to understand that I, on my own, am fully incapable of holding any of you hostage.”

Prince Noctis whimpered softly and buried his face in his father’s shoulder and shook visibly. Lunafreya meanwhile puffed out her chest despite the fact that the horror was plain on her face.

“Either way, I come here not to hold you for ransom or to sell you to the emperor. Frankly, I could not give less of a damn about that man and his abhorrent war tactics.” After all, no one really knew how exactly Chancellor Izunia had come into power. Most people from outside the empire would assume that he was loyal, but as far as he was concerned he was fine with Ardyn’s descendants and Aera’s distant family knowing that he had his own reasons. “Princess Lunafreya, rest assured that you brother is alive.”

It was rather obvious that he was not well, and Lunafreya deflated a little with both fear and relief on her face. King Regis put his free hand on her shoulder and squeezed it gently. “He is?”

“Indeed,” Somnus all but sang, gesturing vaguely at the king and his protector. “And be the war situation as it may be, I have no intention of seeing that child hurt. But, quite frankly, as things stand, he is not in a good position.”

King Regis immediately bristled, bristled enough that his whimpering son whimpered even more. Lunafreya, too, twisted uncomfortably as his grip on her shoulder became too much for her. “What on Eos is that supposed to mean?”

Somnus lifted the rim of his hat out of his face just enough that Clarus and Regis saw him narrow his eyes. “The young Prince Ravus is in prime position to have his anger at being left behind used to turn him into a weapon meant to pierce your Wall. After all, even under the empire’s yoke, there is simply no way that he would turn against his sister, right? He would be forced into military service and there would be nothing you could do about that.”

The relief on Lunafreya’s faced turned into mortified horror. The child paled visibly and stumbled to stand beside Clarus, her small hands digging into the man’s arm as he held his shield steady.

“What is it that you want, chancellor?” He moved slightly to ensure that Lunafreya was completely shielded.

Somnus got down on one knee and offered a hand into the general direction of Lunafreya. “Come back with me, princess. I swear my utmost to keep you and your brother safe from the army’s clutches unless you request to join.”

She definitely considered jumping out from behind the shield and grabbing his hand in that very moment. He saw it in her eyes—the same infuriating eyes that told whatever she was thinking to the world just as Aera had had them. The same infernal look on her face even as he ran her through. But it was the Chosen who finally removed his head from his father’s shoulder.

It was quiet, barely more than a terrified squeak, but it broke Lunafreya’s resolve.

“Luna….”

She shook her head. Hells, there were tears streaming down her face. “I can’t,” she whispered at the man who might as well have offered tossing her straight into the fire. “I can’t help Ravus.”

Somnus sighed. “Very well. Safe travels then, princess, Your Majesty.”

He turned around and started walking, noting that Clarus turned to whisper something to Lunafreya but just as he had suspected, King Regis called for him to wait. The way his voice cracked as he did that was something that Somnus savoured—not even Ardyn’s voice had cracked like that. He stopped, but did not turn to face them once more.

“Lunafreya, go to your brother.”

“But…!”

“You said that you did not care about Emperor Aldercapt,” Regis said as he slowly put Noctis on the ground. The boy wobbled slightly but then stumbled over to Lunafreya. “Though I loathe asking for your cooperation, is there… could you perhaps keep an eye on Lunafreya and Ravus? Keep them _safe?”_

Somnus threw a glance over his shoulders. Lunafreya had bent down and cupped Prince Noctis’ face with her hands, mumbling words of reassurance to the kid who so very much reminded him of Ardyn. The dark red hair certainly did not help. Clarus Amicitia had dismissed his sword and relaxed his pose a little, but he was still alert.

The king on the other hand looked tired.

Somnus shrugged.

He needed the Oracle, and he would rather have her under his own thumb than let her go to Lucis. Of course, neither King nor Shield recognised the Imperial Chancellor as the same man from ten years ago. But just as he was about to say something, he heard the crystalline crack of a warp. He felt a weight against his back and almost nonchalantly noted that a blade had been driven through his side.

Lunafreya had covered Prince Noctis’ ears and Clarus had covered the prince’s eyes.

The hat slid off his head, and he staggered forwards when King Regis took a step backwards and tore the blade out of his body.

“An… interesting answer,” Somnus wheezed out as he dropped to his knees, mostly to properly fake being a wounded man. “Oh, you’ll _regret_ this.”

But the King of Lucis had already picked his son up once more and his friend had picked the Princess of Tenebrae up, and they were running. Lunafreya definitely was sobbing, but she did not fight Clarus again this time.

Somnus sat there for a few minutes before a soldier found him. That man sounded nothing short of _mortified_ as he called for reinforcements and the chancellor being wounded.

Well, at least it seemed as if Ardyn’s descendants still had some bite to them. _Bastards,_ he muttered as he forced his body to collapse from blood loss. King Regis had no idea just _what_ sort of enemy he had made that day, the Niflheim Empire all aside.

* * *

Somnus Izunia was known for being immune to any sort of scolding, immune to any sort of well-meaning suggestions, and was triply immune to being shoved into a wall. He only raised an eyebrow at Verstael, amusement plain on his face as the researcher himself only got madder.

He was supposed to be resting as per the doctor’s orders—something about blood loss and a strange likely viral infection that the person on the airship back to the capital had not been able to identify. The doctor most definitely did not leave the airship alive, gurgling lowly as his body tore itself apart and vanished into a sludge puddle of miasma. Somnus meanwhile had clawed the bandages off and torn the thread out of his sutures; he’d watched blood well up between his hands for a short while before it all regenerated as usual. Sometimes he did wonder what would happen if someone tore him into bite-sized chunks. He almost wanted to suggest it to Verstael, but rather than words he had only opened his mouth and nearly vomited on the floor in front of them. Gods above and devils below, those Lucian royal weapons _hurt._

A proper researcher would have made certain to study the effects on Adagium’s body; Verstael had only tried to get Somnus to sit down and regenerate properly. Somnus had all but jolted to his feet after that, deliberately not breaking eye contact with the Niff as he paced around.

Which, in turn, had made the man rather angry. But there was still more worry on his features than anger. He cracked a lopsided grin at Verstael.

“Do me a favour for once,” Verstael hissed, anger finally overshadowing the worry on his face, “and stop.”

“It’s not as if there’s any lasting harm do—“

Somnus let out a hiss and slid to the side when Verstael all but punched him into the side where King Regis had shoved his weapon through earlier. His vision was swimming and for the first time in years he was nearly reduced to tears. It _hurt,_ gods be damned, it _hurt, hurt, hurt…._

Oh, he hated that this man still had the gall to act all gentle after this. Somnus weakly protested against the hands holding his face, but with how there were bright spots dancing in his vision from the pain alone he did not have much of a resistance to offer to Verstael.

“Please, Somnus.”

* * *

Despite the fact that he as descendent of Aera’s family, Somnus rather quickly learned that Ravus Nox Fleuret was far from similar to his distant aunt. The quiet teenager had definitely grown up loved and coddled, but even so his sister’s existence had overshadowed him ever so slightly. The difference between Ravus and Somnus was the fact that Somnus had been considered a bad omen, whereas Ravus’ survival had him elevated to a spot of hope for the people of Tenebrae.

Even so, the boy closed off his heart and ears to the people. He rarely spoke first, and only muttered the most necessary things—often barely more than one-word answers. The amount of people that he actively spoke to could be counted on one hand: five people.

Two wound up dead three months within the imperial occupation of Fenestala Manor, one went missing, one was shipped off to Gralea for questioning.

The last one was, much to the new house master’s disgust, the imperial chancellor.

The good omen sought the bad omen at every opportunity whenever he was in the place, usually to forward any sort of war developments to the commandeering officer. Somnus hated many people, but something about this man in particular was so disgusting that even Adagium found himself on the defensive. No, he did not like Caligo Ulldor very much. Alas, his position made it hard to remove him from the premise, especially considering there were even less savoury types around the empire. And Somnus was many things—but he was not going to deliver a teenager into a situation like this with a smile on his face. Unfortunately as far as the emperor was concerned, Ulldor held control of the Fleuret boy until he turned 18.

A year after the occupation, Ravus had admitted that he was less than happy about any of this, but he was even less happy about having Ulldor around.

He wasn’t an animated person to begin with, but something about his disposition was positively glum on this fine day.

“And what about General Ulldor could it be? His rancid mood? His vile personality? The fact he smells like week-long dead roadkill on a good day?”

It got a dry laugh out of Ravus at the very least, but the boy still shook his head. “I know he’s the reason the servants are winding up dead.”

Somnus raised an eyebrow and Ravus immediately raised his hands.

“Your Highness, baseless—“

“It’s not baseless. He’s trying to undermine my power by killing people and having them replaced with Niffs that obey him without question before I turn 18.”

For a traumatised 17-year-old, Ravus certainly had not lost his perception. Somnus had noticed it too, but the fact that he was not always in Tenebrae and usually stayed in the Daemon labs made it hard to understand. He leaned over and put a hand under Ravus’ chin once again. Unlike a year ago, there was a dim glimmer in his eyes now; Somnus knew this kind of determination. It reminded him of his sister-in-law in the worst possible way; perhaps her stubborn streak had survived even through her brother’s bloodline.

“Hrm. You seem to be rather certain of your claims, Your Highness. Unfortunately, the army does not fall under my command; and General Ulldor technically outranks me.”

Ravus stared at him for a moment. “But you work with someone who outranks _him.”_

“So I do. What is it that you want?”

He had expected the boy to take up a sword or a gun and immediately swear that he was going to either tear down the empire or get his sister back with guns blazing. He had admitted he hated King Regis and everyone in Lucis for leaving him bleeding in that field just as much as he hated the empire for doing this in the first place, but once again Somnus had won the kid’s trust by being so brutally honest it utterly tore down any sort of resentment that Ravus could have managed to gather. It would make him a very useful tool down the line, but for the time being Somnus had merely sweet-talked a kid that had started to harbour rather intense revenge fantasies.

Ravus grabbed one of his hands. “Get me out of here,” he said. “Tell the Lord Besithia I’m willing to do anything as long as it gets me away from General Ulldor. Even if you just make me get every scientist coffee for the rest of my life—my title means nothing under the empire’s yoke, and this man is more than happy to let me know as much. One more year here with him and I’ll go mad.”

Somnus only said that he could not make any promises, but much to his surprise Verstael not even remotely complained. In fact, the man looked rather pleased. Back in Niflheim in the lab, Somnus shook his head slightly.

“Colour me… surprised, Verstael. I would have thought you would start disagreeing right away.”

“Why, did you have an entire speech prepared?”

Somnus rolled his eyes. “Naught of the sort, cross my still-beating heart.”

Oh, he hated that fond smile on Verstael’s face. “And here I was hoping you would have one. It has been a while since we got into a debate.”

“About a year. Why, would you rather we argue?”

Verstael raised his hands. “No, heavens no. Your verbal lashings are enough. But in case you wonder, Ulldor is using a backhanded tactic on that boy. The kid claims he’s not got any word in the empire—which is plain wrong. The moment he turns 18 he will outrank Ulldor no matter what; a prince is still a prince. Technically that would only put him beneath Emperor Aldercapt as it stands, unless he chooses a successor any time soon.”

Somnus raised an eyebrow. The empire simply made no sense whatsoever; but then again a chancellor technically was the highest position someone not officially involved with the army could achieve. And there was only one at a time; him from now until he ground this place into fine dust. Not that he ever mentioned his ambitions to anyone.

“Aren’t you technically higher ranked than that?”

Verstael shook his head. “Heavens, no. I am still below the High Commander and the Deputy High Commander; and a prince outranks all of us assuming the army is not involved. But back to your original question, I will see that Nox Fleuret is transferred here instead of kept under Ulldor’s jurisdiction for another year. If I may be so bold, why are you listening to that child? You’re Adagium.”

Somnus rolled his eyes. “Come now. You of all people ought to know that a monster kept under wraps does not necessarily mean that it has no feelings.”

“Oh? Since when was the grand Somnus Lucis Caelum fond of children?”

“I am not.”

“Yet you heed the voice of one.” The man leaned forwards a little, folding his hands. That was the expression he generally wore whenever he was coming up with another idiotic hypothesis about his former favourite test subject. “Does he remind you of your own or your brother’s children, perhaps?”

For a moment Somnus considered laughing. Loudly so. That had to be one of the most baseless things that the man had ever speculated, and it would have been _hilarious_ had it not also been rather base and insulting. He settled for a scowl instead.

“No. In case you forgot, ah, the proper timeline of events, my dear—I was cast out of Lucis at the age of 34 by my 37-year-old brother. Unmarried. Childless. My nephew who inherited the throne was born but a year later; which would have made me 35 and chained up, and my brother 38.”

Perhaps it had been pressure from his advisors, but now that Somnus thought about it, Ardyn remarrying so quickly after Aera’s death was kind of off. They had been disgustingly in love for the longest time, even if he had refused her advances for _years_ on end. But a king would need an heir, an heir that Aera never delivered before her _most untimely_ demise at the hands of her brother-in-law—the monster she had helped create.

“I’ve no fondness for children. But rather we have Fleuret under our control than let Ulldor do whatever it is he does to children in his spare time.”

“Very well.”

Verstael left it at that. Somnus on the other hand left with a bitter taste in his mouth.

* * *

Perhaps the most outstanding thing that happened in the years that passed after that was the fact that Lunafreya Nox Fleuret had been allowed outside the Wall. She travelled the countries, even went to Niflheim. By any means she was untouchable, and any attempts at taking her might as well have been a new declaration of war against every country on Eos. They would all arise to fight back if that young woman came to harm; something that Ravus quietly remarked several times. Perhaps an attempt to keep the empire from attempting to capture her with force.

A single Kingsglaive was always seen with her, a young woman who seemed to be around the Oracle’s age. That was all that Lucis offered the wayward Tenebraen Oracle; and even so that woman beside Lunafreya gave up her weapons whenever she was on Niff ground.

It was fascinating to watch the entire council squirm under that affirmation that the Oracle was doing her job but out of their reach. Surprisingly enough, out of all people around, Emperor Aldercapt seemed to care the least whereas Verstael seemingly cared the most. He really wanted to see the effect of Oracle magic on MTs and Adagium, it seemed. Somnus only set his pen aside when the man admitted that and narrowed his eyes.

“When did you acquire a taste in seeing me harmed?”

The answer to that was easy. Where Somnus had once tried to curb any of the man’s attempts to have a little side project, now that the research on inhibiting the magical powers of the Wall and the Lucians in general was well underway, he did not care. In turn Verstael, aged as he was by now, had gotten himself infected. Whether he was aware of that or not remained to be seen—but the change was there. It was subtle to most people, barely noticeable to them; but Somnus knew the moment the strange fussing over any sort of wound stopped.

“You can’t tell me you’re not interested in it either,” the man said and then continued pacing.

“I would quite prefer _not_ getting blasted by holy light, thank you very much.”

“You talk as if you have gotten blasted by it before.”

Somnus swore he could feel the sword tear through his sides again, could feel the weight of the Lucian King against his back and the searing pain of getting punched where the sword tore through his flesh. He put a hand on his side and turned to look at Verstael. The man didn’t even notice.

“By all means, Verstael, the results ought to be the same as tearing off my clothes in bright sunlight. Enough to be tremendously uncomfortable, not enough to outpace cell-regeneration.”

That made him stop pacing. “But you have not tested that hypothesis. Therefore we cannot deny it.”

Somnus got up and walked over to the man. He put both his hands on Verstael’s shoulders and glared at him. “But that means we cannot confirm it either. True or not, catching that girl is merely going to cause trouble; Emperor Aldercapt has the right of it.”

Verstael grabbed Somnus’ arms and pulled him down so they were on the same eye level. “Since when were _you_ a fan of the emperor’s decisions?”

Somnus caught that dangerous glint in his eyes and leaned away slightly. Up this close he was reminded of the times he had marched across the countryside beside those who had sworn fealty to his family, looking for those infected and staggering around. Really all that Verstael was missing by this point was black ooze running out of his hollow eye sockets—there was a definite hunger in his eyes, that base urge to tear apart a living person that befell most people before they turned.

“ _You_ of all people, bowing your head to a mortal emperor? You, a creature neither holy nor base, neither monster nor divinity yet so above us mere humans?” The man had the gall to yank Somnus’ arms to bring him back in close with no regards for the fact that their heads all but crashed into one another.

For a long, rather terrifying moment, Somnus thought that after all this time someone who had gotten themselves infected would manage to drive their teeth into his throat. It wouldn’t matter because the tissue would nearly immediately start regenerating, but the mere thought of feeling death at the hands of this madman he admittedly had helped nurture of the years was less than appealing. Even less appealing was the thought that someone could walk into this scene when Somnus was out for the count and then his game would be up. The dead did not rise again unharmed, and not even the completely undermined council of Emperor Aldercapt would let that thing slide. All that hard work for nothing.

The door opened, and he heard the newcomer stop in the doorway immediately. Somnus frankly could not turn his head to check who it was, but the timing suggested that it was Ravus. Verstael did not let go, and Somnus weakly attempted to get out of that man’s crushing grip.

_Ugh._

Just the fact that he had gotten this strong would prove to be trouble down the line. He was holding himself surprisingly well for a man that would inevitably turn into a base creature that abhorred light and did nothing but stalk and prey on living creatures. Same deal as with Emperor Aldercapt and the entire replacement council.

Finally he let go when 24-year-old Ravus cleared his throat and said that he needed the chancellor, even if it was an inconvenience. Somnus pat his clothes down quickly and only scoffed when Ravus asked if he was alright.

Even if his arms bruised from that iron grip, it wouldn’t really matter. Even something as harmless as a bruise healed quickly thanks to Adagium’s regenerative powers.

He tried not to think about the lasting scar that King Regis’ blessed sword had left on his side.

* * *

Insomnia remained as beautifully untouched as it had been 22 years ago. Emperor Aldercapt had chosen him to deliver terms of peace after the latest success with Verstael’s finished pet project, the Diamond Weapon. They had hatched a plan on how to take out the Wall and take over Lucis in one fell swoop at long last, but they did need an excuse to enter the city; Somnus’ expedition all those years ago had unveiled that much. The Wall would not break and let them through until the very moment they disabled the amplifiers directly linked to the Crystal. In order to do that, they needed to predictably enough get close to the damned thing. Not even King Regis’ death would have the Wall collapsing on them, doubly so if his son was nearby. Against all better judgement, Somnus had discouraged the council from going after the kid again. Well, young man.

They could always kill him later, but killing father and son in one fell swoop would likely lead to an uprising in the provinces, he argued. Prince Ravus was only able to pacify Tenebrae so much, and it was no secret that Accordo humoured the idea of a rebellion against imperial rule despite all their conquerors had given them. And Lucis, Somnus had said, was full of people who could and would turn on them as soon as the pin dropped. And that very pin would have been what the council originally planned on doing. King Regis they could do without, but before Ravus could angrily declare all of them madmen when the suggestion of killing Prince Noctis and Oracle Lunafreya floated about, Somnus had folded his hands.

The Oracle was to remain untouched. He pacified Glauca’s angry demand that all of them died by saying that killing the Glaive woman who was with her would be fair game if they came across them somewhere in the country. Because there was no way Lunafreya was in Insomnia right now, and if she had half a brain she would remain out of it even with news of the peace on the horizon. Besides, he had sighed, if anything she would be making her way to Altissia. Marrying her childhood friend as a symbol of the peace in a city that had previously been completely off-limits for nobles like her must sound like a dream to a young woman like her.

Which brought him to this point, standing there getting patted down by a member of the Kingsglaive that stood guard at this particular gate while his border guard friend contacted the Crownsguard captain. Somnus knew that face; something about seeing the infamous hero of the Kingsglaive checking him for weapons was deeply amusing. Whatever he had done to deserve that demotion was likely linked to the field test of Verstael’s pet project, the Diamond Weapons. Once the Wall was down they would be unleashing these things on the city just for some extra flare.

Somnus quite liked the idea, but sincerely wished he could be the one tearing the city apart—as a final parting gift for Ardyn, perhaps. But alas, he was not to unleash his powers like that, not even in the chaos of a city falling.

“He’s clean,” Nyx Ulric called, and the border guard man forwarded that to the other end of the line, requesting an escort as soon as possible.

“I would hope so,” Somnus muttered, “I don’t like taking a shower on enemy territory.”

Ah, that look was delightful. Nyx Ulric ignored what he said, but just the fact that for a split second he looked as if he had bitten into a dry mouldy sole was enough for Somnus as they waited for the escort. Neither of the soldiers attempted small talk, and Somnus only shifted his weight from one foot to the other occasionally because he enjoyed watching them squirm. They all knew that even as much as a bent hair on the chancellor’s head would likely wind up in something terrible.

Thus, even his escort—a middle-aged man with mousy brown hair and a perpetual frown on his face, made certain that Somnus was unarmed and then carefully removed his blade. Oh, his driver would still reach that thing rather quickly, seeing as it was only on the passenger seat and Somnus was in the back, but he enjoyed the uneasy situation quite a lot. What he did not enjoy was the strange feeling of deja-vu as he stared at the man’s side profile from where he sat. It took him a couple of turns before he realised that this man, who had been introduced as Marshal, was the same person as the green teenager whose sword he had grabbed all these years ago. Now that he had had a chance to look more closely at the blade as well he was starting to put some things he hadn’t really considered yet together.

Cor Leonis was called the Immortal because he had lived through the Trials of the Blademaster. At first he had considered it odd that there was someone who had taken Gilgamesh’s title so long after Gilgamesh’s likely demise on a battlefield protecting his new liege, but looking at the blade that Leonis carried around brought back some uncomfortable memories. Taelpar Crag was mentioned in a report that Verstael had left around at some point, together with the Blademaster’s Trials. There were mentions of a single person who survived these trials in a couple hundred years; the very same Marshal Leonis that Somnus now had the pleasure of sharing a car with. The sword he carried seemed to have been from those trials.

Somnus would always remember every single blade that Gilgamesh carried. The man had been the only one other than his brother and Aera who had treated him like a person rather than a bad omen—to a point that some meaner voices whispered that Gilgamesh sought to replace his own dead son with the local bad omen; or that Somnus’ late lord father had never been his lord father and Gilgamesh had deposed of him before his son with his lady mother was born. Nothing of the sort was true, of course, but it had likely been an attempt at driving a wedge between the Blademaster and the younger Lucis Caelum.

It hadn’t worked, and now Somnus found himself staring at that familiar blade once again.

The report… it had mentioned a dragon. Which meant that Enkidu, that wyvern Gilgamesh brought on longer hunts and larger scale battles against plague creatures, yet lived. It lived, and it protected Taelpar Crag where Gilgamesh’s sword had lain until Cor Leonis picked it up. Either it was bound there by some force, or there was something slightly more sinister going on here. After all, the Bladekeeper had been able to make amends to what fate had had in store for Ardyn and redirected the monster part to Somnus at his request.

He had to admit, that unsettled him slightly. He definitely looked less than happy when they arrived at the Citadel and he followed Leonis through the back entrance. Or employee entrance. Whatever it was, they did not want to stir up trouble by having the Imperial Chancellor Izunia swagger through the main hall and into an elevator. Well, at least the modern Lucian rulers knew the meaning of ‘discreet’—that had never been Ardyn’s strength.

He still put on a fake smile when he was finally called into the room. Those looks of seething hatred were more than enough to make him giddy with angry glee, but seeing that second of horror on Clarus Amicitia’s face when he turned to look at the king from his seat was worth all the trouble of getting this far. Hells, Somnus even exaggerated leaning to his once wounded side when he came to a halt and bowed as politely as he could without overstraining himself.

“My _humblest_ thanks for receiving me on such short notice, Your Majesty.”

He had to hand it to King Regis, the man did not squirm. Where he had once been an easily startled young man who only showed the makings of a great leader 22 years ago, he now silenced the mumbling council with a simple wave of his hand when Somnus delivered _terms of peace._ There was an understanding on his face that made clear that he understood that this could easily be a trap, but for the time being he said that he would… consider it and they would know the decision before noon the next morning. Somnus was unceremoniously carted off to a wing of the Citadel where he could stay—barely more than a glorified prison, but polite enough to not be seen as an insult while the king and his council discussed this.

He was rather delighted by the fact that the very room he had been given was the one he had broken in through 22 years ago.

The one term that had gotten to King Regis in the end had been the suggested marriage between his son and Oracle Lunafreya, which Somnus had used to point out that Tenebrae technically was an imperial province and Oracle Lunafreya an imperial citizen—and, of course, that the woman would be able to meet her brother again. Something that Ravus himself _rather looked forward to,_ as he very slowly said.

The next morning he was unceremoniously carted out of the city with a statement that they would be accepting the terms of peace. All in all, a successful excursion.

The pilot who had gotten him to Lucis narrowed her eyes a little as he said that after all this time the planet would experience peace between its countries. Aranea Highwind was a commoner through and through, but Somnus was fully aware of how sharply intelligent she was. That alone was reason enough why her services were so expensive and how her merry band of misfit mercenaries proved to be so effective for Verstael’s nonsense extractions of ancient Daemons that Lucis had buried in old ruins. She would never really present a problem, but seeing that she harboured her own doubts about the peace was almost endearing. A Niff with a brain—those were rather rare, seeing as more than half of the population would turn into a Daemon at the snap of his fingers.

* * *

Galdin Quay was perhaps the single most disgusting place on the Lucian mainland, he decided. He already hated crowds to begin with, but something about hearing the tide crash against the shore brought back an uncomfortable amount of memories that were not drenched in the urge to destroy. For even just a split moment he thought he heard her laughter and saw the sun set once again, but the moment he blinked it was gone again.

Leaning against the rail at the docks, he had been waiting for a while. There had been a reporter poking about following the news of the boat traffic being shut down _just_ in time for Prince Noctis to likely leave for his own wedding, but Somnus had merely shrugged. The people here did not recognise the Niff chancellor without a hat, and there were plenty of eccentric strangers who wore a lot of layers in the sun. Besides, most people here were hoping that Lady Lunafreya would pass through here to get to her wedding in Altissia.

The dress had been made in Lucis, but shortly before the Niffs arrived in the city, she had left. Somnus had received news that her Glaive had been killed not long thereafter, and as an added bonus the Oracle’s phone had been crushed. She had fled and likely did not quite dare approaching civilisation after the Niffs started travelling through the country. Unaware of that, Prince Noctis had set out from his childhood home not long thereafter, and there was only one place he would be going to to get to Altissia. Galdin Quay was the closest and would attract the least attention to a city person like him; there were several ones if Somnus could believe his ears. Insomnia’s citizens had eccentric names that came from the same roots as his own; the Lucian countryside had no such traditions and stuck to easier naming conventions. It was rather hilarious to stand here and hear a woman called Megan complain about the boats not going while a man called Nero ordered seafood.

He walked away when Prince Noctis actually arrived. His dark red hair looked almost brown until he stepped into the sun; his Shield by his side. Only then the similarities between this boy and Ardyn became more apparent; if it weren’t for the clear blue eyes and the extremely pale skin, why, he could have passed for a black-dressed Ardyn with the general tiredness of Somnus on his face. Clearly the gods were laughing at him by making the boy look so much like his brother, but Somnus was not here to hear them discuss why there would be an embargo _now._

He bumped into a blonde kid on his way back up the stairs, and the kid started profusely apologising right away. Somnus meanwhile stared at him for a good moment before it clicked why this kid was making his hair stand.

So this was where that one supposed MT had been whisked away to. He ignored the apologies and marched on before leaning against a wall in a darker corner of the place.

Prince Noctis’ entourage was most interesting, he noted when they returned with sour faces. The young man with the glasses and the light brown hair was urgently discussing the necessity of keeping the media happy especially in a situation like this; perhaps the man knew of Lunafreya’s whereabouts and could give them some as well as explain what the hell was going on with the transport. The Amicitia looked like he had actually seen combat, though the brute-ish look did him no favours whatsoever. Verstael’s clone bounced from one leg to the other until he saw Somnus leaning against the wall up ahead and made the four of them stop.

Somnus turned his head towards them with a smile on his face.

“Most would consider this a bad omen. We do not know whether the esteemed Prince Noctis and Oracle Lunafreya have already arrived in Altissia or not, but the fact that there is no way across the seas for anyone means that the groom and bride could be delayed—unless they already are there. Tell me, hunters, what do you think? Has Prince Noctis already arrived in Altissia and is talking to his charming bride-to-be?”

The Shield and the bespectacled young man that likely was Prince Noctis’ advisor both moved in front of the prince with grim expressions. Prince Noctis only furrowed his brows a little, his hair falling into his eyes. Gods above, if he grew it out longer he would literally look like a bad copy of Ardyn.

“Who cares?” Astounding first words to hear from Prince Noctis. Somnus considered laughing, but the tired-looking young man pushed his Shield and advisor aside to stand between them rather than behind them. “Good omens, bad omens, who decides that sort of thing? Well, I don’t. Don’t care either. If he’s in Altissia already he’s in Altissia already. None of our business. C’mon guys, let’s leave the master of omens to his brooding in a corner.”

Somnus grinned. “If I were you, I would be a little more careful, Prince Noctis.”

He vanished into the crowd when the advisor, the Shield and Verstael’s clone all three moved as if they were going to grab their weapons.

He needed to return to Insomnia for a treaty signing for the ages anyway. Emperor Aldercapt would be most unhappy if he weren’t there to see their plans come to fruition.

* * *

The Glaives were just another piece on this board of chess, and for the first time since he himself had been a teenager, Somnus found himself challenged playing against someone he was related to. At first it had all gone to plan; the Glaives were distracted by the fact that the supposedly dead Crowe Altius had turned up, then people had started turning into Daemons in the streets. Just in the same moment in the signing room Lucis and Niflheim both let loose their weapons, effectively coming to a standstill for a split moment—until Verstael’s treasured machines dropped in through the windows. King Regis’ swords faltered as he but a split second too late for some of his council conjured up a magical shield around them; and Somnus quite enjoyed the sound of glass shattering as the bullets uselessly bounced off the shields. He shot King Regis a grin as he passed the man on the way out, and the king looked _furious._ It wouldn’t be too long before Glauca dropped in to get his piece of the council, something that had been planned by his strategist and second-in-command Ravus.

The Prince of Tenebrae followed Emperor Aldercapt and Chancellor Izunia quietly, distaste plain on his face.

“Chancellor Izunia?”

That was unusually quiet even for Ravus. Somnus slowed down a little. “Yes?”

In Niflheim, many called Ravus Nox Fleuret a pompous person. It was all a defence mechanism as Somnus quickly learned while the teenager he freed from Ulldor’s clutches turned into a sharply intelligent and furious man. Most people would assume that a royal was like the emperor and did not expect a rather traumatised and very angry prince underneath all the high and mighty behaviour. It made Ravus surprisingly easy to manipulate, because once again he made certain to use any sort of positive feelings or trust to his advantage. Verstael loved him—Ravus trusted him. Somnus hated both of them.

“What about the Ring of the Lucii?”

He waved one of his hands. “Glauca will be collecting that once he gets his prize.”

“Can we trust him?”

No. No one who would willingly betray their king could be trusted—no one who willingly demanded the role of monster could be trusted, either. Not that Ravus knew. “Say that a little louder, my dear, and you’ll get yourself hanged for insubordination or worse, not trusting His Radiance’s choices.”

Ravus pressed his lips together; much like he had told King Regis back then, Somnus had wormed his way past Ravus’ defences by claiming that he did not give a damn about the emperor. But the Tenebraen royal nodded, a grim expression on his face as they continued walking towards the airship that had likely by now gotten the Crystal towed to it.

It wasn’t until sunset that Somnus realised he had never been playing chess against King Regis.

Glauca had reported in and claimed that an unexpected arrival had thrown their plans off a little; a Glaive who had survived long enough to make his way back to King Regis and tried to help the man escape. After Glauca had disposed of the king, he had realised that the Ring of the Lucii was gone and said that he was tracking the wayward Glaive who likely had absconded with it. A single Glaive against the Diamond Weapons, Glauca, and the rest of the turncoats? There was no way in hell that person would succeed.

He realised how wrong he had been when he felt that strange blast of energy and shuddered where he stood in the cockpit. He had refused boarding the same airship Emperor Aldercapt and instead he and Ravus had chosen a different one, one that was used as a decoy to help secure the safety of the one that carried both the emperor and the Crystal from any sort of possible attack. But something in Insomnia shook in that very moment, and it made every hair on his body stand.

They had counted the Old Wall as out of the realm of possibilities; the young King Regis from 22 years ago might have been able to summon one or two of these to aid him—but given how his body had deteriorated over the last few years, there was no doubt that the man was too weak to summon the Old Wall now. Reports about the ring had furthermore suggested that it was impossible to control it for anyone but a descendant of the Lucii themselves; another argument for not killing Prince Noctis right away. If the Crystal proved unresponsive they could always catch the brat and make certain that he did to their bidding.

That familiar flare of magic nearly made him topple over as he staggered out of the cockpit to rip open one of the emergency exit doors. He leaned out slightly just in time to see that the Old Wall was rising after having faded into barely more than a legend. The statues that guarded the city built by his brother that seemingly was named after the brother that he had erased from history. Somnus’ blood ran cold in his veins when those statues rose.

Had they been faster, perhaps they could have escaped unscathed. Ravus eventually came out of the cockpit to check up on Somnus, who was currently considering violently throwing up—he had caught a familiar sword. Just a glance, barely more than a shimmer, and it was enough to send him into a dizzy frenzy. After all this time, all this time on his own and revelling in the fact that he was still around while Ardyn wasnt—and now he couldn’t even have this for himself. The jealousy he had long since buried underneath layers of hatred for the world bubbled up somewhere in the pit of his stomach, and frankly, he was seeing red. Ravus reached for his shoulder, still in the doorway to the cockpit.

“Chance—“

Metal screeched as it was torn in half. Somnus had only turned his head slightly and saw a sword that seemed implausibly thin for its sheer size cut through the airship, right between where he had the door still ripped open and where Ravus stood. It all happened in a split second, and Somnus noted that Ravus’ entire lower arm had been cleaved off right before he himself lost his centre of gravity and fell out of the airship. A statue materialised much higher up, and then plummeted right into one of Verstael’s prized Diamond weapons. Ah, gods be damned. That man would bitch about that loss for hours when they got back to Niflheim with the damage report.

He snapped himself back into reality and warped to the ground where he staggered for a moment. He noted that it was not a sword that had just bisected the airship but a shuriken; that Rogue Queen was going to pay for that nonsense. At the very least it seemed as if another airship had caught that incident and sped up to catch the cockpit. He really only needed to contact someone to get picked up at sunrise.

Well, he ought have. But he caught a faint blue glimmer shooting past him, followed by the telltale oomph of Glauca accelerating beyond his limits.

Right. The Glaive who had carried the Ring of the Lucii.

Somnus narrowed his eyes. No, he was not going to chase these two. That was simply a waste of energy, he thought as he patted his clothes a little and turned around to walk towards the Citadel.

He hadn’t even noticed that another one of these statues was there. He bumped into the blade it had rammed into the ground to stop him, and by any means he should have seen red again. But rather than giving in to the seething jealous rage that had built up within him over the last few minutes, Somnus instead took a step backwards and opened his arms.

“And a most wonderful night to you too, brother dearest.”

The Founder King. The Healer King. Most historians argued what to call Ardyn Lucis Caelum, the man who healed the masses and founded the Kingdom of Lucis. Somnus definitely recalled a time where Aera called his older brother a lost cause, but the Lost Case of Lucis did not roll off the tongue as nicely as Healer or Founder did. The Blade of the Healer was the win weapon to Somnus’ own weapon, a distinct red colour to it to balance out the black on his. Most of his life before he ascended the throne at the behest of the gods was a mystery; most of the history books agreed that he had been healing the masses for a long time even before the gods in their grace chose him as the one to lead the people hand in hand with the Oracle.

Somnus had always stood in his shadow—even now he did.

He snarled at his older brother. “Might you be so kind as to remove your sword, brother? It is rather in my way.”

Ardyn said nothing; but he did not remove his sword either. Somnus shook slightly, nausea setting in as he stared at this statue they had built in his brother’s likeness. Gods above, that wasn’t even his armour. They had decided to put him into the armour of their late father that Somnus had taken up whenever it was necessary on the battlefield. He curled his hands into fists and closed his eyes.

“Do me a favour and get lost.”

A small sigh. Somewhere in the distance a Diamond Weapon howled as it tore the arm off another Old Wall statue. “Gladly. Just… answer me one question. Why?”

Somnus opened his eyes again and cracked a lopsided grin at his brother. “Goodness, has age dulled your mind so? Would you not see to destroy all that I had built had I played as the Bladekeeper in his endless wisdom wanted me to? That throne was _mine._ No _monster_ would ever be worthy of sitting the throne; yet still they somehow chose you for protector _and_ destroyer. We have been over this on the very same day I ran Aera through, in case you forgot.”

If a statue could express resignation, he was rather certain that Ardyn would have tried nailing him with a look of disappointment and resignation. But alas, a statue could do no such thing.

“Well, then, go and beat up these Daemons as I once did, will you?” That statue made no move and Somnus rolled his eyes. “You act as if I, personally, ran your little descendant through. I did no such thing. Go and defend your damned city already.”

There was definitely something that this statue left unsaid, but it warped away. Somnus watched it collide with a Diamond Weapon. Well, perhaps they ought have accounted for the Old Wall. He finally called someone to confirm that he was still alive and on the ground and would be waiting near one of the checkpoints the emperor planned on building near the exits of the city to make certain they could catch Prince Noctis and Oracle Lunafreya in case they attempted to get back into the city.

He marched for a long while, soon joined by other Lucians on their way out of the city while they still could. Some of them stopped to marvel at the Old Wall when the statue built in his brother’s likeness took down a Diamond Weapon. In the distance, the sun rose—soon enough he heard the furious hiss of the remaining Daemons buckling under the first rays of the sun. He left the group once to dip into a side street where he felt something familiar; life force fizzling out.

Somnus raised an eyebrow when he saw a single Kingsglaive man stand over General Glauca’s still sizzling remains. The man was similarly charred and there was a feverish look in his eyes when he turned to look at the Imperial Chancellor. He let out a dry bark.

“Had we… only turned you away at the gates that day.”

He shook his head slightly. He saw the burn that crept up the man’s arm, seemingly coming from a finger. There was absolutely no point in denying anything around a man who the Lucii had accepted as a king for a night. “I’ve no time for dramatic last words. Say your piece, Glaive, and I can end the suffering that my brother and his descendants bestowed upon you.”

A cough and the man swayed sideways. He was fading rather fast as the sun rose higher—not because he was a Daemon, but because something sapped his life force beyond the realm of the possible. Somnus had heard of that phenomenon; arcane powers that rested within the Ring of the Lucii.

Speaking of the ring… that thing was nowhere to be seen. The Glaive laughed once he saw where Somnus was looking.

“You won’t… be finding that. ‘s out of the city by now… a hundred MT assassins… won’t be finding him until he… handed the ring to the… prince or the princess.”

A Glaive on the run with the Ring of the Lucii, then. What an interesting twist ending to this story.

Somnus shrugged and watched the man fall to his knees. How Nyx Ulric still managed to hold his head so high was beyond him, but he did not care.

The Imperial Chancellor left the Glaive for dead.

He still had a lot of work to do. The first and most important thing would be tracking the prince. And he knew that fate had planted the perfect unknowing spy right in the prince’s entourage. Somnus only needed to find the code that this particular failed specimen of a Magitek Trooper had gotten imprinted on his wrist and he would be able to easily trace the path that the Chosen would be taking from here on out.

**Author's Note:**

> twitter @cleignewheat


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